Dreams.
I had a very Torchwoody dream last night. The whole team was there, and all generally in character. They were going on some sort of backpacking trip, but in a research facility. Gwen forgot her underwear and had to go get them. Jack wasn't pleased. They were doing whatever it was they were doing in one wing of the facility. Tosh discovered a nefarious plot to breed superhumans using drugs and eugenics that actually killed most of the patients in another wing. She sent Jack to find out by sending him to get cherries (she'd seen a backyard with cherry trees in it - and it then dawned on Jack that it was January and there would be no cherries). Owen uncovered something about trees in another wing, and in the fourth there was something about Christmas being transplanted from Disney to Muppets.
I think I may have been Ianto.
I've just remembered an earlier and entirely disconnected bit of the dream, where I was in a play of Peter Pan at the Children's theater, and I was Peter, but I hadn't shown up for any of the rehearsals. I was late for all my cues and couldn't remember my lines. And the wings were ridiculously open to the audience, so even when I was backstage frantically looking over what the next scene was supposed to be, the audience was watching me. It wasn't nearly as uncomfortable a dream as it sounds, actually. I was sure I could get away with it, and managed some admirable ad libbing that got me through without question. What bothered me most was when the audience could see me backstage. I mean, that's just not right.
And now, today, I have reading to go and prescriptions to pick up and a shot to get and a Beatles tribute concert to go to. I should call around and see if anyone wants to come with. Hey, Sophia! She likes the Beatles. Free tickets!
I think I may have been Ianto.
I've just remembered an earlier and entirely disconnected bit of the dream, where I was in a play of Peter Pan at the Children's theater, and I was Peter, but I hadn't shown up for any of the rehearsals. I was late for all my cues and couldn't remember my lines. And the wings were ridiculously open to the audience, so even when I was backstage frantically looking over what the next scene was supposed to be, the audience was watching me. It wasn't nearly as uncomfortable a dream as it sounds, actually. I was sure I could get away with it, and managed some admirable ad libbing that got me through without question. What bothered me most was when the audience could see me backstage. I mean, that's just not right.
And now, today, I have reading to go and prescriptions to pick up and a shot to get and a Beatles tribute concert to go to. I should call around and see if anyone wants to come with. Hey, Sophia! She likes the Beatles. Free tickets!