I Dream of Weezy

The other night, I had a dream that I was called in to design the graphics for a signature line of guitars by Lil Wayne (he does play guitar, you know). So, my boss and I went to Lil Wayne’s house. On the lower level, there was an array of paints and guitars all laid out for me to use, but I had no idea what to do. “What’s the direction we’re taking on this?” My boss had no idea. Thus, she went back to the office to work up a creative brief, leaving me standing in Sodom & Gomorrah, Lil Wayne style.

The huge house was total nightclub town, complete with sketchy activity going on in dark corners and curvy women wearing next to nothing, not unlike some porn movie put out by snoop Dogg (have you seen it? it will totally put you off Twizzlers for a month). I’m standing there not knowing what to do when Lil Wayne comes downstairs.

I just stand there not knowing what to say. Once the “wtf” wore off, I extended my hand to shake his. He had no idea what to do with me, as I was standing there in full goth lolita garb that I could never afford in real life. Starting from the feet: cut-out wingtip boots, black and pink striped tights, skirt with tiers of ruffles and a giant bow in back, close-fitting Victorian riding coat, high-collared ruffley lace shirt with a cameo brooch at the throat. My hair was in a loose bun with curly tendrils, topped with a tiny top hat. It was like a page out of the Metamorphose catalog.

Anyway, he’s just standing there trying to figure out what this crazy white girl is doing in his house, why she’s wearing more clothing than all of the other women combined, and why she’s been introduced as (evil). He looks at me with a weird mixture of curiosity, calm and protection. Protection, being the weirdest, because he’s only got two or three inches on me. Maybe it’s the cheekbones. Maybe it’s the face tattoos. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s probably got three guns stashed on his person. He decides to give me a tour of the house.

We end up sitting in front of a computer in his bedroom, listening to whatever he’s been working on. At some point, I think he kissed me, though I’m not sure because the alarm on the Hello Kitty clock sliced through the middle of the dream. Besides, the eye contact is the most important part anyway. Nobody ever has a proper face in my dreams, but I guess I had to give him one since it was level with mine. My mind’s eye didn’t know what to do with itself when it wasn’t staring somebody in the chest, like it usually is.

And so, an item was added to the “yeah, right” to-do list: take Lil Wayne to coffee, pick his brain, take him to goth night. We could roll up in an Escalade and then use a step stool to get out. It would be fabulous.

Take a peek at this video from the soon-to-be-aired interview Weezy did with Katie Couric. The pairing is deliciously surreal, Wayne is coherent (and markedly less high than usual), and we see what makes him so fascinating. Look in those eyes. Do you see it? Warmth mixed with the ability to shoot you in the face. Boyish charm mixed with fire-tempered hardness. He’s got that look that makes one say “this guy is either going to make a million dollars, or go on a shooting spree.”

Then again, Lil Wayne is very productive. He can do both in an afternoon.

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