Logan's a sexpot in leather
[mood: 
My dreamscape is a very weird, interesting place.]
[music: The Reindeer Section - You Are My Joy]
My mind was at it again last night, and this time, my subconscious invited a whole host of characters.
The dream began in a giant megaplex building. It was incredibly dark, everything was cast in hues of blue like a darkened stage being lit by a single row of blue stage lights. Yet, three young, male employees didn't seem to have any trouble navigating the darkness as they headed for their red lockers, only to find them living up to their name: locked. As they begin to bemoan this most unfortunate of circumstances, Peter (an actual person I know from our local movie theater) appears right beside them. The boys turn to him, and for the first time, I can see the group's faces. The trio is compromised of Dustin Belt from Heffron Drive with a very Sid-from-Skins muss of curly dark hair and black horn-rimmed glasses and two high school golfers I did a photo shoot with yesterday.
"Someone locked our lockers!" Dustin exclaims, to which Peter calmly replies in monotone "I did."
"Dude, our lunch was in there!" choruses one group member, the other cautioning "It's going to reek." Peter dismisses this with a simple "You needn't worry about lunch" which obviously translated to Peter taking them out for a delicious, expensive lunch since Dustin makes a wildly exaggerated "Yeeeees!" gesture (making a fist and jerking his arm down like he was encouraging a trucker to honk).
Meanwhile, I'm standing outside on a street in what looks suspiciously like New York without all the traffic. The day is slightly overcast, and the temperature is a bit nippy. Moreover, I'm chatting with Logan of BTR. We're engrossed in a conversation I don't remember much of, and he's mentioning how there is something wrong with his bike. I offer my assistance in fixing it what the hell?, and he apparently decides to go fetch it while I pop into a cafeteria shop. Yes, I know that sounds strange, but this little corner shop is supposed to be an office cafeteria. While standing there, a cafeteria worker comes in with a sandwich that is the envy of all around. Why? I don't know. It just looked like a triangle of wheat and cucumbers. She's explaining that it's a new sandwich from Subway. This somehow triggers me to think about wanting to eat an egg, sausage, and cheese sandwich from Subway (again: what the hell, do they even make those? I don't think they do. That's like a pseudo Dunkin Donuts sandwich at best). At this point, I'm right up to the server in line. I glance down at the rows of tuna fish, salad, and pickles, then look back up, point to the door, and say, "Actually, I'm going to pass."
I step back outside, and Logan is standing there looking like a sexpot in a smooth, black leather jacket (totally influenced from last night's concert outfit, though it looked more like James's jacket choice from the event) and tight, black pants, holding a kickass helmet at his hip and leaning on a motorcycle. I glance at it, a flashy Japanese model, and back up at him with an "Oh." expression. I thought he had meant bicycle when he said bike. XD
Glancing to my left, I tell a girl with a massive afro (not as massive as Troy Polamalu's, but close), "I was going to check the air pressure in his tires. Take a look at the spokes. I'm not a mechanic." Logan takes this as his cue to pull on his helmet (similar to the one he wore when they went racing), throw his left leg over the crotch rocket, and kick start the bike, riding away. I mention wanting to go to Subway to this girl, who looks a bit like one of The Jennifers, but not as pretty as Savannah. Suddenly, Daniel Tosh pops into the conversation, dressed in a casuaaaaal jaaaaaacket, to tell me with a gleeful smile that they are going to marathon every episode of Bishoujo Sailor Moon beginning now until dawn. It was late afternoon; this was an impossible feat. I tell him, "But there're over 200 episodes..." and afro!girl interrupts to shout "I have a 1,000!" I quirk an eyebrow and mention, "I have the complete collection. There are not a 1,000 episodes." She amends to say she has a 1,000 Leonardo Dicaprio movies. Also impossible, but I just let that go with a smile and "Ohhh, I thought you were talking about Sailor Moon" since we, uh, were. Then, Josh (another person from reality) drives up and says, "I thought you wanted to go to Subway? Get in."
We pull up outside a building that is decidedly not Subway. In fact, the place looks closed and even the vending machine has a chain cage around it (inside the machine, around all the goods XD). I assume that means it will not work, but Josh wants a Dr. Pepper. I tell him to get it himself because he's being demanding rather than asking. He was very teenage-attitude in this dream; he isn't like this at all in real life. I end up punching in the numbers for him, and the bottle only half drops. This sets off some "Awww I really wanted it, and now I can't have it!" whining, and I tell him not to be such a baby. I reach into the machine around the cage, and jerk it down. I hand him the Dr. Pepper with the advice, "You just have to tug the bottle a bit if it doesn't drop into the receptacle." He grabs the soda thanklessly and heads into the building, which turns out to be a restaurant. It's warmly lit, and there are fancy glass cases of pastries and appetizers along the wall next to the doorway. There are twinkle lights scalloped near the ceiling, and the waitstaff is dressed in high society uniform (silk, black, button-up tux vests, pristine white aprons tied around their hips, and sharp slacks). I inspect the glass cases, perhaps hoping to find the sandwich that began this entire foray.
A tall, mean, snappish young waiter huffs his way over to the table where Josh and a group of others from the car plunked down. He obviously can't be bothered to do his job, finding it incredibly vexing that people actually wish to order. He tells me I can take anything from the case on his walk back to get his order pad. I watch the exchange, still standing next to the glass cases, and then deftly remove one of the crackers to pop into my mouth. I am kind of shifty eyed as I decide to take the cracker, like I kifed it (maybe out of spite for bad service), but it was accompanied by "Anything we want, huh? I can just take this cracker then." That element was probably influenced from my co-worker's recent trip to a bakery where you help yourself to any thing on the shelves, and they just bag it for you at the end to figure out your total...still, you're not supposed to eat it before they total it up like I did in the dream. XD The cracker is light amber in color, hard, and shiny, kind of like the Japanese snack crackers that come in mixes with wasabi peas. The last thing I remember was covertly popping that cracker into my mouth with a look like "Nothing to see here. Move along" and not being very fond of its taste. It was certainly no egg, sausage, and cheese Subway sandwich. XD
My dreamscape is a very weird, interesting place.]
[music: The Reindeer Section - You Are My Joy]
My mind was at it again last night, and this time, my subconscious invited a whole host of characters.
The dream began in a giant megaplex building. It was incredibly dark, everything was cast in hues of blue like a darkened stage being lit by a single row of blue stage lights. Yet, three young, male employees didn't seem to have any trouble navigating the darkness as they headed for their red lockers, only to find them living up to their name: locked. As they begin to bemoan this most unfortunate of circumstances, Peter (an actual person I know from our local movie theater) appears right beside them. The boys turn to him, and for the first time, I can see the group's faces. The trio is compromised of Dustin Belt from Heffron Drive with a very Sid-from-Skins muss of curly dark hair and black horn-rimmed glasses and two high school golfers I did a photo shoot with yesterday.
"Someone locked our lockers!" Dustin exclaims, to which Peter calmly replies in monotone "I did."
"Dude, our lunch was in there!" choruses one group member, the other cautioning "It's going to reek." Peter dismisses this with a simple "You needn't worry about lunch" which obviously translated to Peter taking them out for a delicious, expensive lunch since Dustin makes a wildly exaggerated "Yeeeees!" gesture (making a fist and jerking his arm down like he was encouraging a trucker to honk).
Meanwhile, I'm standing outside on a street in what looks suspiciously like New York without all the traffic. The day is slightly overcast, and the temperature is a bit nippy. Moreover, I'm chatting with Logan of BTR. We're engrossed in a conversation I don't remember much of, and he's mentioning how there is something wrong with his bike. I offer my assistance in fixing it what the hell?, and he apparently decides to go fetch it while I pop into a cafeteria shop. Yes, I know that sounds strange, but this little corner shop is supposed to be an office cafeteria. While standing there, a cafeteria worker comes in with a sandwich that is the envy of all around. Why? I don't know. It just looked like a triangle of wheat and cucumbers. She's explaining that it's a new sandwich from Subway. This somehow triggers me to think about wanting to eat an egg, sausage, and cheese sandwich from Subway (again: what the hell, do they even make those? I don't think they do. That's like a pseudo Dunkin Donuts sandwich at best). At this point, I'm right up to the server in line. I glance down at the rows of tuna fish, salad, and pickles, then look back up, point to the door, and say, "Actually, I'm going to pass."
I step back outside, and Logan is standing there looking like a sexpot in a smooth, black leather jacket (totally influenced from last night's concert outfit, though it looked more like James's jacket choice from the event) and tight, black pants, holding a kickass helmet at his hip and leaning on a motorcycle. I glance at it, a flashy Japanese model, and back up at him with an "Oh." expression. I thought he had meant bicycle when he said bike. XD
Glancing to my left, I tell a girl with a massive afro (not as massive as Troy Polamalu's, but close), "I was going to check the air pressure in his tires. Take a look at the spokes. I'm not a mechanic." Logan takes this as his cue to pull on his helmet (similar to the one he wore when they went racing), throw his left leg over the crotch rocket, and kick start the bike, riding away. I mention wanting to go to Subway to this girl, who looks a bit like one of The Jennifers, but not as pretty as Savannah. Suddenly, Daniel Tosh pops into the conversation, dressed in a casuaaaaal jaaaaaacket, to tell me with a gleeful smile that they are going to marathon every episode of Bishoujo Sailor Moon beginning now until dawn. It was late afternoon; this was an impossible feat. I tell him, "But there're over 200 episodes..." and afro!girl interrupts to shout "I have a 1,000!" I quirk an eyebrow and mention, "I have the complete collection. There are not a 1,000 episodes." She amends to say she has a 1,000 Leonardo Dicaprio movies. Also impossible, but I just let that go with a smile and "Ohhh, I thought you were talking about Sailor Moon" since we, uh, were. Then, Josh (another person from reality) drives up and says, "I thought you wanted to go to Subway? Get in."
We pull up outside a building that is decidedly not Subway. In fact, the place looks closed and even the vending machine has a chain cage around it (inside the machine, around all the goods XD). I assume that means it will not work, but Josh wants a Dr. Pepper. I tell him to get it himself because he's being demanding rather than asking. He was very teenage-attitude in this dream; he isn't like this at all in real life. I end up punching in the numbers for him, and the bottle only half drops. This sets off some "Awww I really wanted it, and now I can't have it!" whining, and I tell him not to be such a baby. I reach into the machine around the cage, and jerk it down. I hand him the Dr. Pepper with the advice, "You just have to tug the bottle a bit if it doesn't drop into the receptacle." He grabs the soda thanklessly and heads into the building, which turns out to be a restaurant. It's warmly lit, and there are fancy glass cases of pastries and appetizers along the wall next to the doorway. There are twinkle lights scalloped near the ceiling, and the waitstaff is dressed in high society uniform (silk, black, button-up tux vests, pristine white aprons tied around their hips, and sharp slacks). I inspect the glass cases, perhaps hoping to find the sandwich that began this entire foray.
A tall, mean, snappish young waiter huffs his way over to the table where Josh and a group of others from the car plunked down. He obviously can't be bothered to do his job, finding it incredibly vexing that people actually wish to order. He tells me I can take anything from the case on his walk back to get his order pad. I watch the exchange, still standing next to the glass cases, and then deftly remove one of the crackers to pop into my mouth. I am kind of shifty eyed as I decide to take the cracker, like I kifed it (maybe out of spite for bad service), but it was accompanied by "Anything we want, huh? I can just take this cracker then." That element was probably influenced from my co-worker's recent trip to a bakery where you help yourself to any thing on the shelves, and they just bag it for you at the end to figure out your total...still, you're not supposed to eat it before they total it up like I did in the dream. XD The cracker is light amber in color, hard, and shiny, kind of like the Japanese snack crackers that come in mixes with wasabi peas. The last thing I remember was covertly popping that cracker into my mouth with a look like "Nothing to see here. Move along" and not being very fond of its taste. It was certainly no egg, sausage, and cheese Subway sandwich. XD