Unstable Dreamscape
I've been riddled by numerous "strange" dreams for over a week now. From people (including my step-mother, who looks remarkably like Janice) *wanting* me as a second chance with my dad to being incredibly close to losing my arm inside of a shark at Sea World. One of my faves was the graph comparing how Santa is loved in relation to the number of atoms in the presents he gives. The most recent, though, takes the amusing cake.
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So I'm visiting Britt and her boyfriend in Seattle, I *think* Amy's there too. Why I'd ever intend to spend time specifically with Britt, even in my dreams, I don't know. Inevitably, of course, she did something to piss me off. Being the obnoxious a-hole that I am, I needed to get back at her. This is where my dreams start to assume things.
In this dream reality, it's an easily noticeable fact that Britt is completely in love with this gentleman that she's dating and living with. Whether or not that carries over into real life is unknown to me.
The dream actually starts while I'm giggling to myself about finding post-it notes. You know, the little, yellow, rectangular ones. Since I'm omniscient in many of my dreams, I'm quite aware that nobody even realizes that I'm pissy about whatever it was she had said to humiliate and miff me. Ambush.
What can I do with sticky pieces of paper, a black pen, and some evil wit to harm the industrial queen? Go for the robotic heart.
In all, I'd say the Mat in my dream wrote about twelve to fifteen little notes. Each one a single-sentence statement about Britt's beloved boyfriend.
"_____ is a smart guy."
(Blank because I don't *actually* know his name)
"_____ went to college."
"_____ graduated."
(I think his name was Dave in the dream)
"Dave is an attractive guy."
"Dave has a great smile."
Shortly after I finished my chain of flattering little sticky notes, I put them on the fridge and laid in wait. Britt starts reading them and is beaming like a pregnant, bionic woman when she's nearing the last couple. I'm aflutter with excitement.
"Dave is a wonderful guy."
"I'd so marry Dave."
"I can't wait to embarrass Britt all over his face."
The shock washed over her face like fresh automotive oil flowing out of an oil pan. Somehow, I managed to flee her chasing attempts around their apartment while gut-splitting laughter boomed throughout the rooms.
Fuck that bitch.
----------------------------
So I'm visiting Britt and her boyfriend in Seattle, I *think* Amy's there too. Why I'd ever intend to spend time specifically with Britt, even in my dreams, I don't know. Inevitably, of course, she did something to piss me off. Being the obnoxious a-hole that I am, I needed to get back at her. This is where my dreams start to assume things.
In this dream reality, it's an easily noticeable fact that Britt is completely in love with this gentleman that she's dating and living with. Whether or not that carries over into real life is unknown to me.
The dream actually starts while I'm giggling to myself about finding post-it notes. You know, the little, yellow, rectangular ones. Since I'm omniscient in many of my dreams, I'm quite aware that nobody even realizes that I'm pissy about whatever it was she had said to humiliate and miff me. Ambush.
What can I do with sticky pieces of paper, a black pen, and some evil wit to harm the industrial queen? Go for the robotic heart.
In all, I'd say the Mat in my dream wrote about twelve to fifteen little notes. Each one a single-sentence statement about Britt's beloved boyfriend.
"_____ is a smart guy."
(Blank because I don't *actually* know his name)
"_____ went to college."
"_____ graduated."
(I think his name was Dave in the dream)
"Dave is an attractive guy."
"Dave has a great smile."
Shortly after I finished my chain of flattering little sticky notes, I put them on the fridge and laid in wait. Britt starts reading them and is beaming like a pregnant, bionic woman when she's nearing the last couple. I'm aflutter with excitement.
"Dave is a wonderful guy."
"I'd so marry Dave."
"I can't wait to embarrass Britt all over his face."
The shock washed over her face like fresh automotive oil flowing out of an oil pan. Somehow, I managed to flee her chasing attempts around their apartment while gut-splitting laughter boomed throughout the rooms.
Fuck that bitch.