travis, that guy blow dries his hair
So last night I had some... strange dreams. I am posting them here in their entirety purely for the fact that for once, they were vivid enough that I actually fucking remembered them. Yep. (Also, they're probably boring? Well, the first one is boring the second is just fucking bizarre.)
Dream #1
I was at the movies with some friends. It was my birthday? Yes, it was, because I remember that one of my friends bought me bizarrely expensive ticket that included a whole bunch of things aside from just the movie that I don't even remember. But I digress.
So we're at the movies but I get a phone call that there's some kind of emergency and I have to go home. (It wasn't like a life or death emergency though because I wasn't at all panicky or in a rush to get home.) (And lemme just say? That kind of thing is so accurate to my life. Things that could possibly happen on my birthday, or any special day, would so include getting a call and having to leave any and all festivities behind. It's par for the course. I am amused that my subconscious thought it up.)
So I said my apologies and left my friends behind but on the way out I went to the box office to return the hella expensive ticket because that is also so very me. ANYWAY, the guy behind the plexiglass? Was... well, he was an amalgamation of Tom Hardy, the man himself, and Tom-Hardy-as-Charles-Bronson if that makes any sense at all. Through dream logic I was kind of aware of his capacity for violence? So I was a bit wary. And he sort of looked humongously buff like Tommy did during his Bronson days but at the same time he wasn't Bronson, he was Tom. Again, if that makes any sense... (And there was no mustache because obviously dream!me remembered we hate mustaches like burning. o/)
So again, anyway, um. Oh yes, we start talking about I don't know what and he wants to walk me home? Because it was dark and damp (b/c it had just rained) and possibly dangerous? Which idek, subconscious!me apparently wants Tom-Hardy-as-Charles-Bronson to protect me, what even. Anyway, eventually I figure I agree because then there's a scene change and we're in my house (not my house but apparently a place where dream!me lives) in the living room watching tv with my family and I'm sitting in Tom-as-Bronson's lap... yes. So eventually it's time for bed and everyone goes to bed and Tom-as-Bronson goes home.
Which is, literally, right next door.
And of course, because this is dream!me, I get up after everyone is asleep and go to his and knock on the door and Tom-as-Bronson answers the door...
Naked. As the day he was born, even.
Yes.
And then I look down and he's got an erection the size of Texas.
Yes.
So, as expected, Tom-as-Bronson pulls me inside and we kiss passionately...
...and then I WAKE UP.
Yes.
This is me. This is so very me. My sex dreams never have any sex in them. They have everything up to but never any Tab A's meeting Slot B's. And normally I wouldn't call this a sex dream because only maybe two seconds of it had anything naughty happening but that is also something that is entire-fucking-ly par for the course.
Yep.
Dream #2
Less a sex dream and more a lesson in idefk?
There's a... play? Or something, I don't know. But I guess I'm subbing for someone last minute orrr Idek. But I could tell it wasn't a planned thing and I'm in a dressing room and it's fucking bizzarre as fuck because the costume they bring me is like. Wow.
It's supposed to make me look like I have a shriveled little siamese twin sticking out of my side.
Yes.
So I put it on without a word and go towards the backstage area where people are already popping out from behind the curtains onto the stage proper and it really is fucking last minute because I don't even get a second to breathe or ask what I'm supposed to be doing before I'm pushed through the side curtains and boom I'm out in the middle of the stage.
But it's okay, dream!me has not even heard of the term 'stage fright' so I'm a-okay. Plus there's like, twenty people roaming around me doing their part in whatever crazy excuse for a play dream!me has been suckered into.
In any event, I still don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to be doing so I improv (el oh fucking el) and slouch like I have a hunchback and scowl out at the audience.
Yes.
No, Idk either.
Time must pass or something because next I know I'm sitting on the stage on some fake steps of Idek (it's sort of like the steps you'd find leading up to a courthouse?) and who should be sitting next to me?
Stiles.
Or more clearly, Dylan O'Brien, the actor who plays Stiles. But in my dream he's not Dylan-the-actor-from-Teen-Wolf he's just Dylan-an-actor... if that makes sense? *sigh*
ANYWAY, he's sitting on a step higher than me? Or he's, like. Just that much taller than me, because he's looking down at me. Smiling. Flirting. Flirting with the hunchedback siamese twin girl. In the middle of a "performance".
Yes.
No, Idk either.
But now that I notice this weird thing that is Dylan-not-Stiles flirting with me I start to realize that it feels less like a play... and more like I'm at church. In a bizarre fucking church choir because I'm still wearing the siamese twin costume... and I know that something in the dream has changed because all of a sudden the steps aren't the "fake" steps from before but they're risers like what a choir would stand on when they sing on stage...
Yes.
And we're supposed to be singing like gospel music (which what? I've never even gone to a church where they sang gospel music) but Dylan-not-Stiles starts singing something to me. Like, he's trying to be weirdly romantic? I can't remember the lyrics now but they were very much not gospel music sounding lyrics.
So Dylan-not-Stiles starts singing to me
Yes.
and he must start singing too loud because eventually the whole audience-now-congregation starts singing along with his horridly off-key made up on the spot lyrics
Yes.
and I am just so stupidly smitten with his stupid attempts at wooing that I smile and cover my face...
and then I wake up.
YES.
So... I got nothin'. Really. I got nothin'.
Aside from the fact that WHO KNEW I WAS ATTRACTED TO STILES DYLAN? I MEAN, REALLY, SUBCONSCIOUS? REALLY? Yeah, don't think I am attracted to him irl. Love the kid to pieces but... no. Just no. Sorry babe.
Also, Common Law. Who else is watching this? It's not great but it's so good for me anyway. I mean, aside from the cases I don't care about it's got therapy and feelings. Y'all know how much I love me some feels. ;D
Crossposted at Dreamwidth | http://pajaroenvuelo.dreamwidth.org/59927.html
Dream #1
I was at the movies with some friends. It was my birthday? Yes, it was, because I remember that one of my friends bought me bizarrely expensive ticket that included a whole bunch of things aside from just the movie that I don't even remember. But I digress.
So we're at the movies but I get a phone call that there's some kind of emergency and I have to go home. (It wasn't like a life or death emergency though because I wasn't at all panicky or in a rush to get home.) (And lemme just say? That kind of thing is so accurate to my life. Things that could possibly happen on my birthday, or any special day, would so include getting a call and having to leave any and all festivities behind. It's par for the course. I am amused that my subconscious thought it up.)
So I said my apologies and left my friends behind but on the way out I went to the box office to return the hella expensive ticket because that is also so very me. ANYWAY, the guy behind the plexiglass? Was... well, he was an amalgamation of Tom Hardy, the man himself, and Tom-Hardy-as-Charles-Bronson if that makes any sense at all. Through dream logic I was kind of aware of his capacity for violence? So I was a bit wary. And he sort of looked humongously buff like Tommy did during his Bronson days but at the same time he wasn't Bronson, he was Tom. Again, if that makes any sense... (And there was no mustache because obviously dream!me remembered we hate mustaches like burning. o/)
So again, anyway, um. Oh yes, we start talking about I don't know what and he wants to walk me home? Because it was dark and damp (b/c it had just rained) and possibly dangerous? Which idek, subconscious!me apparently wants Tom-Hardy-as-Charles-Bronson to protect me, what even. Anyway, eventually I figure I agree because then there's a scene change and we're in my house (not my house but apparently a place where dream!me lives) in the living room watching tv with my family and I'm sitting in Tom-as-Bronson's lap... yes. So eventually it's time for bed and everyone goes to bed and Tom-as-Bronson goes home.
Which is, literally, right next door.
And of course, because this is dream!me, I get up after everyone is asleep and go to his and knock on the door and Tom-as-Bronson answers the door...
Naked. As the day he was born, even.
Yes.
And then I look down and he's got an erection the size of Texas.
Yes.
So, as expected, Tom-as-Bronson pulls me inside and we kiss passionately...
...and then I WAKE UP.
Yes.
This is me. This is so very me. My sex dreams never have any sex in them. They have everything up to but never any Tab A's meeting Slot B's. And normally I wouldn't call this a sex dream because only maybe two seconds of it had anything naughty happening but that is also something that is entire-fucking-ly par for the course.
Yep.
Dream #2
Less a sex dream and more a lesson in idefk?
There's a... play? Or something, I don't know. But I guess I'm subbing for someone last minute orrr Idek. But I could tell it wasn't a planned thing and I'm in a dressing room and it's fucking bizzarre as fuck because the costume they bring me is like. Wow.
It's supposed to make me look like I have a shriveled little siamese twin sticking out of my side.
Yes.
So I put it on without a word and go towards the backstage area where people are already popping out from behind the curtains onto the stage proper and it really is fucking last minute because I don't even get a second to breathe or ask what I'm supposed to be doing before I'm pushed through the side curtains and boom I'm out in the middle of the stage.
But it's okay, dream!me has not even heard of the term 'stage fright' so I'm a-okay. Plus there's like, twenty people roaming around me doing their part in whatever crazy excuse for a play dream!me has been suckered into.
In any event, I still don't know what the fuck I'm supposed to be doing so I improv (el oh fucking el) and slouch like I have a hunchback and scowl out at the audience.
Yes.
No, Idk either.
Time must pass or something because next I know I'm sitting on the stage on some fake steps of Idek (it's sort of like the steps you'd find leading up to a courthouse?) and who should be sitting next to me?
Stiles.
Or more clearly, Dylan O'Brien, the actor who plays Stiles. But in my dream he's not Dylan-the-actor-from-Teen-Wolf he's just Dylan-an-actor... if that makes sense? *sigh*
ANYWAY, he's sitting on a step higher than me? Or he's, like. Just that much taller than me, because he's looking down at me. Smiling. Flirting. Flirting with the hunchedback siamese twin girl. In the middle of a "performance".
Yes.
No, Idk either.
But now that I notice this weird thing that is Dylan-not-Stiles flirting with me I start to realize that it feels less like a play... and more like I'm at church. In a bizarre fucking church choir because I'm still wearing the siamese twin costume... and I know that something in the dream has changed because all of a sudden the steps aren't the "fake" steps from before but they're risers like what a choir would stand on when they sing on stage...
Yes.
And we're supposed to be singing like gospel music (which what? I've never even gone to a church where they sang gospel music) but Dylan-not-Stiles starts singing something to me. Like, he's trying to be weirdly romantic? I can't remember the lyrics now but they were very much not gospel music sounding lyrics.
So Dylan-not-Stiles starts singing to me
Yes.
and he must start singing too loud because eventually the whole audience-now-congregation starts singing along with his horridly off-key made up on the spot lyrics
Yes.
and I am just so stupidly smitten with his stupid attempts at wooing that I smile and cover my face...
and then I wake up.
YES.
So... I got nothin'. Really. I got nothin'.
Aside from the fact that WHO KNEW I WAS ATTRACTED TO STILES DYLAN? I MEAN, REALLY, SUBCONSCIOUS? REALLY? Yeah, don't think I am attracted to him irl. Love the kid to pieces but... no. Just no. Sorry babe.
Also, Common Law. Who else is watching this? It's not great but it's so good for me anyway. I mean, aside from the cases I don't care about it's got therapy and feelings. Y'all know how much I love me some feels. ;D
Crossposted at Dreamwidth | http://pajaroenvuelo.dreamwidth.org/59927.html