Always Crashing in the Same Car

I'm sitting in David Bowie's smoking room in his mansion.This in and of itself isn't strange. It's the early eighties and he wants my opinion on his new music. He pushes play on an enourmous stereo system and a menlange of songs from his eighties period blast through the machine; but strangely none of the hits. He excuses himself from the room for a moment and when he returns he is dressed in his Thin White Duke phase. He just poses at me from across the room as if to ask if I thought it rocked sufficently. He excuses himself again and returns in another eighties outfit, each time with an ever present cigarette burning in his hand.  This goes on throughout the tape. At one point during his absence I hear what sounds like heavy machinery from the courtyard and peer through a stained glass window to view workmen moving a giant glass spider with a crane. Soon after Bowie returns dressed as Pagliacci the Clown from his "Ashes to Ashes" video. He sits in the easy chair across from me with greasepaint on his face and asks, "Well?" There is a clicking of the music ending and I'm dumbstruck towards what to say.  While I try to stammer out something polite, his beautiful wife enters the room and asks if I'd like an aperitif. This is when I wake up.