Stampede

After falling asleep the other night, I woke up in a jungle. 

Yes, a jungle.

In front of me was my Roland RD-700 keyboard, resting swayingly on a rickety wooden table with wheels.

“You ready to lead this thing?” the director of the choir I’m a part of at school said as he patted me on the back.  A tribe of people clothed in elaborate headdresses and body paint stretched their leg muscles in front of my group like a bunch of athletes before a game. Looking behind me, I saw a bored and yawning Bethel Choir. 

Like this. An actual picture of a bored Bethel Choir. (I'm one of the people in this picture, by the way.) 

“I don’t really know how I’ll be able to push this on the jungle floor—“ I began, until being interrupted with…

“Here it starts!” he exclaimed, “This will be the best stampede ever!"

And start it did. 

The sound of thunder rumbled beneath my feet.  The jungle was brought to life as a herd of 50 giraffes sped in a mad dash past us, perpendicular to the tropical hangar we were waiting on. Cows followed the giraffes, then zebras, then ostriches.  Looking closer, I noticed pugs running between the long legs of their stampeding cohorts.

As the charge grew louder, I watched as the tribe in front of me joined the chaotic parade. My group ambled up to where the tribe stood. My keyboard shook on the uneven ground.  Are we really supposed to join this madness? I’m not sure we really rehearsed for anything. And who the hell would ask me to lead with the keyboard??

“Brian!” shouted our director, “Get going!”

Oh man, I thought, and we joined the freight train of running animals.

And then I woke up.