The Concert

OK, this is an odd one. Not really "odd" as in "abstract", but full of enough confusions and vague symbolism to keep me guessing, anyways. I call it "The Concert".

Anyways, the dream begins with me and my dad going into an arena to see a concert. My dad, a big Bob Dylan fan, is convinced that that is we're going to see, but I have no idea who it will be, trhough I'm fairly certain that it isn't going to be Bob Dylan, a thought which I keep to myself. Anyways, once we get inside, the darkness of the arena coupled with the coloured lightshow on the ceiling immediately scream "power metal" to me (not literally "scream", but strongly suggest), and surely enough, the band Dream Theatre (an appropriate band to feature in a dream if ever there was one) comes onstage to much crowd approval. My dad, seeing that this is not the Dylan that he expected, quickly disappears into the crowd with a curt, "see you later", presumably to go home.
I find a table next to some of my friends (there are tables in arenas, apparently) and settle in to watch the show. Dream Thetre immediately launches into a rendition of "their" hit, Kingdom for a Heart (in reality, a song by Sonata Arctica) and the perspective of the dream switches from my first person view to that of a typical "filmed concert" music video, with various close ups on guitar licks, drum breaks, etc., and cuts from the concert to pre-filmed images of the band playing in outer space, standing on a rainbow and performing on dragon back. Anways, the song ends, and I turn to my friends (to those in the know: Leo, Neil, Box, Matt and Ben) to see what they thought. Their reaction is uniformly negative, with Leo flat out telling me that it sucked, and Neil more diplomatically saying the same thing. In response (and this is the thing I remember most vividly), I pick up a hot dog on the table in front of me (it's been there all along, of course) which, rather than being composed of bread and meat, is made of a gummi candy weiner with a marshmallow bun. I then pick up a ketchup packet of gummi-style translucent red icing sugar disguised as real ketchup, begin to apply the icing to my "hot dog" and say, both defiantly and wryly, "Yeah well, different strokes for different folks!", before taking a hugebite out of my footlong gummi-dog, to the outrage and disgust of all. If any of my friends had been wearing monocles, that's about when they would have fallen off.