I had one of the most kick-ass dreams in recent memory last night. This might take a while to transcribe, so bear with me.

Unlike a lot of my dreams I wasn't a participant, but just an observer, like I was watching a movie. The setting was a fantasy world something like a cross between that of The Elder Scrolls and Dragon Age. I was following a ( Read more... )

Dear Brain,

Erotic dreams are normal and expected every now and then.

Nightmares, too, are normal and, though not pleasant, expected to occur from time to time.

Erotic nightmares are just fucked up! KNOCK THAT SHIT OFF!

Yours truly,
Me

I dreamed that someone was explaining to me that the reason the magnetic north pole moves around was not geomagnetic instability ... but wormholes.

Sounded legit...

This! Friggin'! ESSAY!

How to Do What You Love

Read it. Some of it is stuff we all already know. Some of it is stuff we already know restated in a new and interesting way. And some of it made me say "Of course! Why didn't I see that before?!?"

Once again, I was The Doctor. But this time, I and my two companions (whom I couldn't see, though I get the feeling one of them was bluejogger) had been captured by K-9, who had turned evil. And had acquired a terribly potty mouth. He berated and belittled us for a while before I tried to convince him that he wasn't the robot dog he thought he was ( Read more... )

I was at a convention for the television show House M.D.. Hugh Laurie was there, and we spoke. I managed to convince him to do a re-enactment of one of the episodes of Blackadder the Third, with him reprising the role of Prince-Regent George "Thick as a Whale Omelet" Hanover and me as his butler, Edmund Blackadder ( Read more... )

My dream just before waking this morning seems to have been heavily influenced by having watched District B13* last night. Only, in the dream, I wasn't Leito or Damien (the main characters), but The Doctor. Specifically, the Chris Eccleston Doctor, #9. Except I had my own hair ( Read more... )

Damnit! I had the woman in my room, sitting on the edge of my bed. She was sympathetic*, she thought my lame joke was funny**, and she was hotter than a two-dollar pistol! And just as I was leading up to the sure-to-be-specTACular make-out session . . .

. . . my gods-damned alarm clock went off!

Grumble! Why don't the awful dreams ever end that ( Read more... )