I'm a special snowflake...again
Recently, I was complaining how my fandom dreams tend to suck. There was the one with the 10th Doctor where I desperately tried to keep these things things that looked like Clive Barker's imagining of fraggles from breaking through the door while the Doctor argued with his sonic screwdriver. So that one was a wee bit scary.
Then there was the one where I was stuck in Suzanne Collins' Hunger Games and Dean Winchester was from my district so we were temporary partners. Ideally, that sounds perfect because I know he can fight but he spent so much time trying to find out what happened to Sam that I was ready to stab him with the stake I whittled out of a tree branch. Harsh, I know, but the Sawyer/Locke team was close to finding us even in the torrential rain (sneaky bastards) and Dean was dead weight.
Now my latest dream involved Neal Caffrey, photo below for reference.
Actually let me repeat myself: Neal Caffrey
So Neal Caffrey is in my home -in my bedroom- for some unexplained reason and do I tear his well tailored suit off and have my wicked way with him in this dream world my subconscious has gifted me with?
No, I look at him and very seriously ask if he could use his many and varied talents to fix my tv...because USA is playing in five minutes...and I'm more worried about missing the game than I want to sleep with him....*facepalm*
ETA: So what does this say about me? My anxiety over what's happening right now and my overarching obsession with football tops my love of pretty boys.
Then there was the one where I was stuck in Suzanne Collins' Hunger Games and Dean Winchester was from my district so we were temporary partners. Ideally, that sounds perfect because I know he can fight but he spent so much time trying to find out what happened to Sam that I was ready to stab him with the stake I whittled out of a tree branch. Harsh, I know, but the Sawyer/Locke team was close to finding us even in the torrential rain (sneaky bastards) and Dean was dead weight.
Now my latest dream involved Neal Caffrey, photo below for reference.
Actually let me repeat myself: Neal Caffrey
So Neal Caffrey is in my home -in my bedroom- for some unexplained reason and do I tear his well tailored suit off and have my wicked way with him in this dream world my subconscious has gifted me with?
No, I look at him and very seriously ask if he could use his many and varied talents to fix my tv...because USA is playing in five minutes...and I'm more worried about missing the game than I want to sleep with him....*facepalm*
ETA: So what does this say about me? My anxiety over what's happening right now and my overarching obsession with football tops my love of pretty boys.