So, last night I had a dream that I moved to San Diego with my friend to chase our "Street Dreams", which is dumb out of the gate, because we are in our 40's and the time setting was current. Well, we met up with some random guys and they were all "you can stay with us, we crash at a pro's house". Of course we agree, and the house was pretty small. Basically, a long living room, 1/2 kitchen, small bathroom and 1 bedroom. There were about 8 random skaters, sitting around doing standard shit: smoking weed, setting up boards etc. The pro shows up and its Ricky Oyola. We were all "daaamn" but also "why is he in San Diego?". The skaters all gush over him, like he's a king. The word "East" comes out of his mouth constantly. Lots of "East Coast rules".
The dream goes on and this kind of basic shit continues, except as the dream goes on, we (friend and I) start noticing that the skaters all seem kind of bummed out, worn out, etc. We hear raised voices from the 1 bedroom and its Rick in there scolding one of the skaters for using a "west coast board" (also confusing because we are in San Diego). We're kind of confused by that, but the other skaters all start acting like abused children. Covering their ears and looking like they need a hug. We start thinking this is wack.
I'm handed a set of Dial Tone (or Nicotine?) wheels by one of the skaters and Rick finally acknowledges me and says "East Coast Wheels". I'm strictly a Spitfire guy, and I say "no thanks man, my wheels are good". Silence. I look at the skaters and they are all holding Traffic Ricky Oyola pro models, and wearing Traffic hats/ shirts/ hoodies etc. They all start saying "East Coast! East Coast! East Coast!" .... and then I woke up. I laughed once I was with it.