I Think My Dreams Are Telling Me Something
So I had another gaming dream the other night. This one was unique because I was actually Amice in it, as opposed to being some me-Amice hybrid. And the other character was himself and not a weird player-character hybrid as they usually are.
In true dream fashion, it started out in one place and then moved into something else. One minute I was in a hotel room with everyone who went to FenCon, trying to figure out if the fridge worked (though there really was no fridge in the hotel room at FenCon), and the next thing I knew I was Amice, talking to Jareth Rosewood. The conversation went like this:
Jareth [looking at Amice sideways]: You don't like me very much, do you?
Amice [lips slightly pursed]: Well, you haven't given me any reason to like you, Mr. Rosewood. All you do is make snarky, one-line comments to me. That alone isn't going to make me like you.
Insert montage of Jareth telling Amice about his past, why he left the Rifles, etc. I have no idea what was said in this montage, but it must have been something good, whatever it was. Because we cut back to:
Jareth [standing behind Amice, holding her wrists behind her back, whispering in her ear]: Now, tell me what you'd like me to do to you . . .
So, though I have to say that the whole Amice-not-being-me thing fell apart a bit there at the very end, I think my subconscious likes Jareth very much. And wants to get to know him better. Hmmm . . . . And possibly yummmm . . .
(Sadly, though, there was a distinct lack of debt collectors in the shape of cathartic boars. I guess you just can't have everything. But it was my first gaming dream after a long drought, and sexy too, so I'm not complaining too much.)
In true dream fashion, it started out in one place and then moved into something else. One minute I was in a hotel room with everyone who went to FenCon, trying to figure out if the fridge worked (though there really was no fridge in the hotel room at FenCon), and the next thing I knew I was Amice, talking to Jareth Rosewood. The conversation went like this:
Jareth [looking at Amice sideways]: You don't like me very much, do you?
Amice [lips slightly pursed]: Well, you haven't given me any reason to like you, Mr. Rosewood. All you do is make snarky, one-line comments to me. That alone isn't going to make me like you.
Insert montage of Jareth telling Amice about his past, why he left the Rifles, etc. I have no idea what was said in this montage, but it must have been something good, whatever it was. Because we cut back to:
Jareth [standing behind Amice, holding her wrists behind her back, whispering in her ear]: Now, tell me what you'd like me to do to you . . .
So, though I have to say that the whole Amice-not-being-me thing fell apart a bit there at the very end, I think my subconscious likes Jareth very much. And wants to get to know him better. Hmmm . . . . And possibly yummmm . . .
(Sadly, though, there was a distinct lack of debt collectors in the shape of cathartic boars. I guess you just can't have everything. But it was my first gaming dream after a long drought, and sexy too, so I'm not complaining too much.)