Snakes, Robin Hood Bondage, and Beds on the Subway
[mood: 
Snakes in my sink? More likely than you think!]
[music: White Ghost Shivers - Mama Said]
You’ve heard many a strange tale from my subconscious, but I think last night’s dream may take the cake in the genre of strange. Unlike some of the others, I cannot trace the character appearances to anything I’ve seen recently or yesterday’s real life events. Plenty of folks made a first time appearance, so I included helpful visuals this time, haha.
The dream kicks off in a living room conjured from puzzle pieces of other living rooms in my memory-the layout features a big, plush, cream couch at one end and an open archway at the other (leading into another room). To the far right, there is a cream laundry basin style sink and a cabinet.
Sitting on the couch are several girls, one of which is Jen, someone I went to college with. Each girl is sitting with their hands cupped in a lotus blossom position, and a small, thin snake is coiled in each palm. *shudders* I had just given a yellow snake with orange rings (a pattern like a tabby cat) to Jen while wearing soapy gloves. Seeing that it’s still a little soapy from its bath, I volunteer to take it back to the sink to quickly wash it off with warm water. I pull off my gloves, but instead of the orange snake, I am handed a new, short-length snake with coral colors (red touched black, so I was OK, Jack).
Without a word, I take it over to the sink and attempt to give it a short rinse. It’s not keen on this and bites me below the second knuckle of my thumb. I say “ouch” rather calmly (that would never happen) and am hurrying back over to the couch to give it back to Jen. It bites me again in rapid succession on the second knuckle of my pointer finger, then one more time, so my right hand is now sporting three sets of bloody pinpricks. Three bites is three too many, and I throw the snake into the air before it can bite again. It flies across the living room, lands on the beige rug, and proceeds to be partially sucked up into the vacuum cleaner my mother was running.
I shout to turn off the vacuum and run over. We pull out the snake, which now appears to be some kind of newt given his little legs and fat triangle head / "fake head" tail. As I step back, this newt morphs into Kevin Schmidt. Yes, Big Time Rush star Kendall’s Schdmit’s real life brother. Kevin stars in Unnatural History. Now, I’ve never seen Unnatural History beyond a preview or anything else that Kevin’s done aside from his Vegas video of BTR, so I have no idea why he made this appearance or what triggered it, but let me tell you, it gets even stranger, more hilarious, better--all of the above. He’s lying on his stomach, arms bent at his side and palms flat to the floor on either of side of him (as though he’d lowered himself down from doing a push up). He’s dressed in a striped shirt and jeans, his hair is styled in a blonde fauxhawk, and his features are a bit softer than his features in real life. He looks up at me with just his eye (i.e., without moving his head from where it’s pressed to the floor). That one piercing blue eye clouds up into metallic silver as he mutters about how he's not used to being tossed away because of his seductive powers. Cue flashback.
In the flashback, Kevin stands with purpose, staring resolutely into the bright blue eyes of another young boy, almost hidden beneath the boy's blond, curly moptop of hair. The background behind them is a cerulean-to-royal-blue, and it is streaking by them, creating a feeling of movement even as they stand perfectly still. Music swells as Kevin makes a deliberate stride forward, and points of silver light erupt in the blue to become streaks of light as Kevin’s hands curl into the moptop of hair and pull those lips to his own. The point of view spins around them like a camera doing a circular shot as they deepen the already passionate kiss, and then the music decrescendos, the scene shifting with the volume. It transitions to the curly blond-haired boy on a subway car sitting upright in a bed, shirtless, staring straight ahead, eyes guilty and empty while his lover (not Kevin) sleeps soundly beside him. A softer, bittersweet version of the music playing beneath his kiss with Kevin underscores the scene. The implication was that Kevin had seduced him, and he'd cheated on the lover sleeping beside him in the process. The moptop guy is reflecting on all of this after making love with his boyfriend. In a bed on the subway. Yeah, my brain's insane awesome like that. As the scene moves past him to the subway car windows, we see the background is now devoid of the streaking light blue, replaced by checkered black and white.
The dream pitches back to the house where Kevin the newt was almost sucked up into a vacuum. Sharon Gless is walking down light gray stone steps at the front of the house as Mrs. Novotny from Queer as Folk. She’s bundled up in ear muffs and a heavy, fuchsia winter coat. Her face is lit with smile, but she becomes serious as she reaches the bottom of the steps, crunching through the snow to meet a man that looks a bit like Detective Horvarth (also from Queer as Folk) crossed with some other middle-aged man. He is wearing a long, tan trenchcoat and his cheeks are flushed from the cold. She tells him softly that they have to talk.
“It’s about your son,” she starts quietly, referring to Kevin.
He sighs and gestures wildly with his arms, interrupting, “Look, he’s been doing gay stuff for three years. I think I can handle it.”
She shakes her head. “That’s not it,” and all of a sudden Allan A’Dale (Joe Armstrong) from BBC’s most recent Robin Hood incarnation throws open two heavy, ornate wooden doors a few houses down to bellow into the snowy night, “Come quickly!” At this moment, I’m sitting down, cross-legged, and turn to someone beside me and say, “Well that was rather dramatic. Probably because it’s his only scene” as though I’m watching this play out on my television screen. XD (note: Allan A' Dale was my favorite character in that series, and he never got enough screen time).
Guy of Gisborne (Richard Armitage), also of Robin Hood, heeds Allan’s cry and storms into the house (which consequently is Gisborne’s own home), all black leather and snarl per usual. He throws open the door to the bedroom, which is lit in gorgeous, warm light thanks to several wall sconce torches. There, tied to each cherry-wood pillar of the King-sized, four-poster bed, is Kevin Schmidt, shirtless and sweat-slicked atop layers of plush comforters and pillows. He is writhing and making keening noises from his efforts to free himself, stopping only when the door is thrown open by Guy. His wrists are dripping blood, cut deep from all his struggling.
Still bound by the ropes, Kevin does his best to roll onto his left side, now wearing a spaghetti-strap, black tank with lace detail along the shoulder blades and maroon panties with lace ruching at the top (shirtless to dressed, there is no continuity). My dream self makes another snarky comment about how weird Guy’s tastes are, the implication being that Guy had Allan dress Kevin in those undergarments. Guy strides over to the bed and growls out in his clipped way, “Keep this up, and you’ll cut your wrists to the bloody bone!” He hisses angrily as Kevin tries to jerk his arm away, grinding out that he’s trying to untie him and to knock it the hell off. Since Guy was trying to help, maybe he wasn't the initial kidnapper. Or, he was just having another moment of moral clarity. XD
The dream petered off with some girl slumped in a giant armchair chair, arms wrapped around herself, angsting over someone she lost (not to death), and I'm not sure if the person in question was Kevin or someone else. The light seeping in from the giant bay window was gray, overcast like it was drizzling rain and did little to lighten her mood. My friend and I did our best to be comforting, though I don't believe either of us knew her very well. I asked her if she’d like me to the turn the music off (if it was reminding her of the person), but she said no, so I simply turned the volume down on the computer I was using to listen to the song-some slow, sad ballad. Then, I’m in another room (my room in real life), tracing my hand-punched butterfly lampshade with my fingertips. It's warm from the glowing light bulb, and I'm talking to a friend about how I could understand her sadness at having lost said person only to get a surprise glomp when said friend bowled me over with a hug.
I think I may be halfway to earning my bachelors in strange dreams. What do you think?
Snakes in my sink? More likely than you think!]
[music: White Ghost Shivers - Mama Said]
You’ve heard many a strange tale from my subconscious, but I think last night’s dream may take the cake in the genre of strange. Unlike some of the others, I cannot trace the character appearances to anything I’ve seen recently or yesterday’s real life events. Plenty of folks made a first time appearance, so I included helpful visuals this time, haha.
The dream kicks off in a living room conjured from puzzle pieces of other living rooms in my memory-the layout features a big, plush, cream couch at one end and an open archway at the other (leading into another room). To the far right, there is a cream laundry basin style sink and a cabinet.
Sitting on the couch are several girls, one of which is Jen, someone I went to college with. Each girl is sitting with their hands cupped in a lotus blossom position, and a small, thin snake is coiled in each palm. *shudders* I had just given a yellow snake with orange rings (a pattern like a tabby cat) to Jen while wearing soapy gloves. Seeing that it’s still a little soapy from its bath, I volunteer to take it back to the sink to quickly wash it off with warm water. I pull off my gloves, but instead of the orange snake, I am handed a new, short-length snake with coral colors (red touched black, so I was OK, Jack).
Without a word, I take it over to the sink and attempt to give it a short rinse. It’s not keen on this and bites me below the second knuckle of my thumb. I say “ouch” rather calmly (that would never happen) and am hurrying back over to the couch to give it back to Jen. It bites me again in rapid succession on the second knuckle of my pointer finger, then one more time, so my right hand is now sporting three sets of bloody pinpricks. Three bites is three too many, and I throw the snake into the air before it can bite again. It flies across the living room, lands on the beige rug, and proceeds to be partially sucked up into the vacuum cleaner my mother was running.
I shout to turn off the vacuum and run over. We pull out the snake, which now appears to be some kind of newt given his little legs and fat triangle head / "fake head" tail. As I step back, this newt morphs into Kevin Schmidt. Yes, Big Time Rush star Kendall’s Schdmit’s real life brother. Kevin stars in Unnatural History. Now, I’ve never seen Unnatural History beyond a preview or anything else that Kevin’s done aside from his Vegas video of BTR, so I have no idea why he made this appearance or what triggered it, but let me tell you, it gets even stranger, more hilarious, better--all of the above. He’s lying on his stomach, arms bent at his side and palms flat to the floor on either of side of him (as though he’d lowered himself down from doing a push up). He’s dressed in a striped shirt and jeans, his hair is styled in a blonde fauxhawk, and his features are a bit softer than his features in real life. He looks up at me with just his eye (i.e., without moving his head from where it’s pressed to the floor). That one piercing blue eye clouds up into metallic silver as he mutters about how he's not used to being tossed away because of his seductive powers. Cue flashback.
In the flashback, Kevin stands with purpose, staring resolutely into the bright blue eyes of another young boy, almost hidden beneath the boy's blond, curly moptop of hair. The background behind them is a cerulean-to-royal-blue, and it is streaking by them, creating a feeling of movement even as they stand perfectly still. Music swells as Kevin makes a deliberate stride forward, and points of silver light erupt in the blue to become streaks of light as Kevin’s hands curl into the moptop of hair and pull those lips to his own. The point of view spins around them like a camera doing a circular shot as they deepen the already passionate kiss, and then the music decrescendos, the scene shifting with the volume. It transitions to the curly blond-haired boy on a subway car sitting upright in a bed, shirtless, staring straight ahead, eyes guilty and empty while his lover (not Kevin) sleeps soundly beside him. A softer, bittersweet version of the music playing beneath his kiss with Kevin underscores the scene. The implication was that Kevin had seduced him, and he'd cheated on the lover sleeping beside him in the process. The moptop guy is reflecting on all of this after making love with his boyfriend. In a bed on the subway. Yeah, my brain's insane awesome like that. As the scene moves past him to the subway car windows, we see the background is now devoid of the streaking light blue, replaced by checkered black and white.
The dream pitches back to the house where Kevin the newt was almost sucked up into a vacuum. Sharon Gless is walking down light gray stone steps at the front of the house as Mrs. Novotny from Queer as Folk. She’s bundled up in ear muffs and a heavy, fuchsia winter coat. Her face is lit with smile, but she becomes serious as she reaches the bottom of the steps, crunching through the snow to meet a man that looks a bit like Detective Horvarth (also from Queer as Folk) crossed with some other middle-aged man. He is wearing a long, tan trenchcoat and his cheeks are flushed from the cold. She tells him softly that they have to talk.
“It’s about your son,” she starts quietly, referring to Kevin.
He sighs and gestures wildly with his arms, interrupting, “Look, he’s been doing gay stuff for three years. I think I can handle it.”
She shakes her head. “That’s not it,” and all of a sudden Allan A’Dale (Joe Armstrong) from BBC’s most recent Robin Hood incarnation throws open two heavy, ornate wooden doors a few houses down to bellow into the snowy night, “Come quickly!” At this moment, I’m sitting down, cross-legged, and turn to someone beside me and say, “Well that was rather dramatic. Probably because it’s his only scene” as though I’m watching this play out on my television screen. XD (note: Allan A' Dale was my favorite character in that series, and he never got enough screen time).
Guy of Gisborne (Richard Armitage), also of Robin Hood, heeds Allan’s cry and storms into the house (which consequently is Gisborne’s own home), all black leather and snarl per usual. He throws open the door to the bedroom, which is lit in gorgeous, warm light thanks to several wall sconce torches. There, tied to each cherry-wood pillar of the King-sized, four-poster bed, is Kevin Schmidt, shirtless and sweat-slicked atop layers of plush comforters and pillows. He is writhing and making keening noises from his efforts to free himself, stopping only when the door is thrown open by Guy. His wrists are dripping blood, cut deep from all his struggling.
Still bound by the ropes, Kevin does his best to roll onto his left side, now wearing a spaghetti-strap, black tank with lace detail along the shoulder blades and maroon panties with lace ruching at the top (shirtless to dressed, there is no continuity). My dream self makes another snarky comment about how weird Guy’s tastes are, the implication being that Guy had Allan dress Kevin in those undergarments. Guy strides over to the bed and growls out in his clipped way, “Keep this up, and you’ll cut your wrists to the bloody bone!” He hisses angrily as Kevin tries to jerk his arm away, grinding out that he’s trying to untie him and to knock it the hell off. Since Guy was trying to help, maybe he wasn't the initial kidnapper. Or, he was just having another moment of moral clarity. XD
The dream petered off with some girl slumped in a giant armchair chair, arms wrapped around herself, angsting over someone she lost (not to death), and I'm not sure if the person in question was Kevin or someone else. The light seeping in from the giant bay window was gray, overcast like it was drizzling rain and did little to lighten her mood. My friend and I did our best to be comforting, though I don't believe either of us knew her very well. I asked her if she’d like me to the turn the music off (if it was reminding her of the person), but she said no, so I simply turned the volume down on the computer I was using to listen to the song-some slow, sad ballad. Then, I’m in another room (my room in real life), tracing my hand-punched butterfly lampshade with my fingertips. It's warm from the glowing light bulb, and I'm talking to a friend about how I could understand her sadness at having lost said person only to get a surprise glomp when said friend bowled me over with a hug.
I think I may be halfway to earning my bachelors in strange dreams. What do you think?