3962: Nocturnal Transmission
A curious dream remembered in the wake of trivial [in this pinpointed region] earthquakes, I happened to be in my parents' house--as per typical of >50% of the settings in my dreams--when I came across three intruders who had broken in: two high school/college girls, and Crazy Hair.
The curious part was that, when I asked what they were doing in my [parents'] house, they said something to the effect of needing a place to crash post-con, and when they asked around, it eventually ended up like some kind of "Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon" variant of "this person knows someone who knows someone who has a house."
Yeah, dream logic.
Anyway, I didn't quite get to ask them how they broke in pretty much undetected [as believable as it is that they could], because at one point I realized, "Hey, BT is in my house uninvited. The least he could do is sign my book!" =p
But he signed, like, a lotto ticket or other instead. Maybe a flyer. Something that wasn't my book specifically for collecting such things. And when I was trying to work out how to ask him in a not-bitchy way to sign the thing I wanted signed instead of some random crap, I made a comment about how was Comic-Con, and he replied that he didn't go--he and the two chicks were fresh from A-Con or something. Which I *should* have known [in-dream] but flaked.
So... yay dreams ¬_¬ When they're not pants-shittingly scary, hair-tearingly aggravating, or plain-oldly unmemorable, they're grossly unsatisfying =/
I expect all the dreams I have of going back to Target have some underlying message... 9_9
The curious part was that, when I asked what they were doing in my [parents'] house, they said something to the effect of needing a place to crash post-con, and when they asked around, it eventually ended up like some kind of "Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon" variant of "this person knows someone who knows someone who has a house."
Yeah, dream logic.
Anyway, I didn't quite get to ask them how they broke in pretty much undetected [as believable as it is that they could], because at one point I realized, "Hey, BT is in my house uninvited. The least he could do is sign my book!" =p
But he signed, like, a lotto ticket or other instead. Maybe a flyer. Something that wasn't my book specifically for collecting such things. And when I was trying to work out how to ask him in a not-bitchy way to sign the thing I wanted signed instead of some random crap, I made a comment about how was Comic-Con, and he replied that he didn't go--he and the two chicks were fresh from A-Con or something. Which I *should* have known [in-dream] but flaked.
So... yay dreams ¬_¬ When they're not pants-shittingly scary, hair-tearingly aggravating, or plain-oldly unmemorable, they're grossly unsatisfying =/
I expect all the dreams I have of going back to Target have some underlying message... 9_9