Gig and Boots (night of 30/08/2013)

(in a hotel lobby)

I am going to see a band with friends, including Al and Andy. I cannot remember what band we are going to see, and begin to worry about my memory. Is it Ministry? I begin  to hope it is some goth band. I ask Andy, but he cannot remember either. We talk to Al who does remember. It is a one-syllable band (something like Gask) who play a kind of industrial rock.
Before the gig we go for dinner at a friend's house (At least, I presume this is all part of the same dream. The chronology may also be a bit confused). The friend appears to come from Spain or some other Mediterranean country. She lives in a tall house with a lot of other female students. She cooks us dinner, and I hover around the kitchen making 'amusing' remarks about the fact I never help with dinner.
The house has lots of empty rooms with piles of junk in them.
Seeing this band necessitates a short train trip to a nearby town, somewhere like Lewes. When we leave the house I realise that I am wearing two odd boots - neither boot is mine, and both are worn and dirty and ragged. I am disconsolate. What happened to my boots? I have obviously got my boots mixed up in one of the piles of trash back at the friend's house. I realise that no woman will find me attractive wearing these odd, dirty boots. Maybe no-one will notice? We get on the train (I only remember Al on the train) but I cannot find seats. Al does, and sits down. I sit down on a seat behind him. Al looks disgruntled as there are spaces on the seat next to him, but were obscured because they are long 'bench' type seats covered with a comfy lining. Al proceeds to lie down.