I was in a local guitar shop, trying out an utterly beautiful bass guitar. It oozed quality from every orifice, and had a sound to die for. The swirling grain of the wood, the gold hardware, the fat, black pickups all whispered "buy me, buy me" ...
I stood up, approaching the guy sitting behind the counter.
"I'll take it."
"You sure? It's a thousand quid for that one, you know."
"I know, but it is beautiful."
I was about to hand it over, then hesitated.
"Hm, maybe not. I have plenty of basses. What I really want is a totally shit hot lead guitar. Have you got something that really kicks ass?"
The guy let a half-smile slip.
"Follow me, sir."
So I followed him. He lead me out of the shop, and up to the traffic lights. Once over the junction we marched up a long, steep hill until we reached the church that sits up there.
Without a glance back, the guy took me into the church and stopped in front of a blank section of wall.
"Are you ready for this?"
He grabbed the wall, and pulled, shifting it out and around to reveal a flight of stairs leading into the crypt.
Down we went into the cool darkness, a final turn in the stairs revealing what must have been the ultimate collection of totally rocking guitars...
Then I woke up.