CENTRALIA, Wash. — Avid metal fan Andrew Rostburgh is plagued by recurring horrifying dreams in which he’s accidentally naked and, worse, must endure three opening acts before seeing his favorite band take the stage, report exhausted sources.
“I hoped it was just a one-time weird thing from when I drank coffee too late,” said the still-sweaty 41-year-old. “But almost every night now I’ll dream I’m in the front row to see Chaos of Blasphemes play ‘The Chapel of Despair’ in it’s entirety when I realize I’m naked—okay, whatever—and then the opener finishes their set and says something about the next two bands and it hits me. I have to stand there for at least another 90 minutes before Chaos of Blasphemes even comes on. My back is already killing me, the floor is concrete, I suddenly feel nauseous. All I can do is scream until I wake up.”
Rostburgh’s longtime partner Adelaide Varna is worried for her safety as the nocturnal terrors become more violent.
“He’ll thrash around and rip the sheets, and yell about how he doesn’t even have his orthotic insoles,” Varna explained while bulk buying melatonin. “I try to calm him down down by reminding him it’s just a dream and we can get home by like 11 at the latest if we leave before the encore. It’s all probably because of a bad memory from last year. We didn’t look at the lineup closely enough, and it turned out they were playing last on a special tour with Thrombotic Torsos, Milkscreech, and Carnage Syndicate. Quadruple bill. On a Wednesday night. I guess Andrew still hasn’t recovered.”
According to dream analyst Hyacinth Whittenmoore, everything that appears in a nightmare paints a vivid picture of the dreamer’s inner psyche and deepest fears.
“Mr. Rostburgh is experiencing a very standard anxiety dream. Of course, being naked in a dream is that classic symbol of vulnerability,” she said, “Let’s see what else there is to analyze. Three openers at a show? Yeah, that’s not even in the dream encyclopedias. There’s no symbolism. Probably just means you’re getting old. Sorry.”
At press time, Rostburgh had finally escaped his recurring nightmare by replacing it with one about not studying for a high school test and also realizing doors are at 9 p.m.