Dreaming of guitars...

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."

"OK..."

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?"

"Guess so..."

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.