Another Excursion, and a Dream
Took my three-mile walk into town again today, this time to see A Home at the End of the World. Dear God, Colin Farrell is gorgeous and I want him in all kinds of sexy, non PG-13 ways that are totally not kosher and that I should probably not post about too explicitly in such an open forum. Him and me and Kenyon College should all move in together in a nice Victorian in upstate New York. I honestly believe that we can make it work, depsite the evident failure of its relationship predecessor.
And hell, even I think that Robin Penn is gorgeous.
Despite my stepfather's usually clueless and apathetic existence, he actually has discovered why I have been dreaming like crazy for the past several weeks - because I haven't been writing. Stopped writing about when I arrived in DC, which is when I started dreaming an insane amount. This itself is a source of distress, but I just haven't been able to write. The magic is gone, on vacation, moved out, sayonara. I try not to let it bother me too much, but this is without a doubt the worst block I've ever had. I've had difficulty writing. I've not wanted to write. But I've never had the words just leave.
So last night's dream of choice involved my three week vacation, only this time it was out at my father's house, which was much larger and nicer than said house is in reality. My stepbrother was nowhere to be seen (my subconscious is a merciful god), and Faye only had a brief cameo. It was mostly myself, my older stepsister Erica (the one I adore, worship, and revere) and this guy. I do not remember his name, though I suspect it was something that would seem unusual to people who were actually conscious. Was it Amber, perchance? That may have been it. Anyway, despite the contradictory connotations of said name, he was male. And vaguely attractive.
But he was rather evil, and only Erica and I could tell because everyone else loved him, but he made all these terrible things happen - both myself and Erica suffered second degree burns in this dream as a direct result of Amber's magical sinister nature.
In a more random aspect of the dream, Brownie, my long-dead gerbil made a cameo appearance, in which I had put her in the freezer before I took her with me to my to dad's house. Because we'd be gone for three weeks, so I couldn't leave her without care, but to tote a live gerbil just spelled out disaster. So I tried to thaw her out when I got there - I swear - and she was dead. To my absolute shock. I also noted that she had shrunk to miniature proporitons.
Despite his dark and strangely intriguing nature, I implored Amber to bring her back to life, which he did, but in the process accidentally turned her into a red ant.
As the dream progressed, I began to find myself under Amber's thrall. Eventually, Erica became so fed up with her hatred of Amber that they decided to settle it. Since this could not, of course, be done in a physical way, both because Amber would kick her ass and my brain cannot comprehend such simple and logical solutions, they locked themselves in the basement and had a guitar-off. They both played on guitars that seemed to be made of baby powder, were heart-shaped, and strangely silent. To Erica's dismay, Amber won the guitar-off, though how this was determined since neither guitar produced noise, I am unsure.
Then, there was an ice-skating competition. By this point, my sister had mystically transformed into some strange modern-day combination of both Lucy Lawless and the actual Xena herself. This was, as is the nature of dreams, completely normal. And Xena is a marvelous ice-skater, if I may say so myself. A bunch of us - who's us? I have no clue - were sitting on the steps into the basement-turned-ice-rink singing and cheering her on. We were, for some reason, singing "We're Gonna Score" from Grease 2. My dreams are very detailed, and in the dream there was a word I couldn't remember in the song. Now, awake all day, I still can't remember it.
So I looked it up. It was "bop". I believe that I replaced it with "fuck" or some variant thereof in my dream, because logically, when you have a big empty honking space where a word should be, "fuck" is always an adequate replacement.
This dream took place roughly between 7am, when I'd first woken up, and 11:30. While I was intrigued and anxious to see who would win the skate-off, my mother called from work, tearing me from my dream, to tell me that she had accidentally deleted an e-mail of mine that I later, upon waking further, realized that I had never sent.
So yes. I don't know how it ends, though my mother is insister that Xena kicked Amber's ass. There is a gripping, bestselling novel in there somewhere, but I'm probably too close to the picture to find it.
I also wanted to talk about how much I love music, and how frustrated I am that I have never been adequate at writing songs, but the dream has usurped the main plot of this entry, as dreams are ever wont to do. So my musical woes must be saved for a later date while I am just going through the motions.
Peace, love, Xena.
And hell, even I think that Robin Penn is gorgeous.
Despite my stepfather's usually clueless and apathetic existence, he actually has discovered why I have been dreaming like crazy for the past several weeks - because I haven't been writing. Stopped writing about when I arrived in DC, which is when I started dreaming an insane amount. This itself is a source of distress, but I just haven't been able to write. The magic is gone, on vacation, moved out, sayonara. I try not to let it bother me too much, but this is without a doubt the worst block I've ever had. I've had difficulty writing. I've not wanted to write. But I've never had the words just leave.
So last night's dream of choice involved my three week vacation, only this time it was out at my father's house, which was much larger and nicer than said house is in reality. My stepbrother was nowhere to be seen (my subconscious is a merciful god), and Faye only had a brief cameo. It was mostly myself, my older stepsister Erica (the one I adore, worship, and revere) and this guy. I do not remember his name, though I suspect it was something that would seem unusual to people who were actually conscious. Was it Amber, perchance? That may have been it. Anyway, despite the contradictory connotations of said name, he was male. And vaguely attractive.
But he was rather evil, and only Erica and I could tell because everyone else loved him, but he made all these terrible things happen - both myself and Erica suffered second degree burns in this dream as a direct result of Amber's magical sinister nature.
In a more random aspect of the dream, Brownie, my long-dead gerbil made a cameo appearance, in which I had put her in the freezer before I took her with me to my to dad's house. Because we'd be gone for three weeks, so I couldn't leave her without care, but to tote a live gerbil just spelled out disaster. So I tried to thaw her out when I got there - I swear - and she was dead. To my absolute shock. I also noted that she had shrunk to miniature proporitons.
Despite his dark and strangely intriguing nature, I implored Amber to bring her back to life, which he did, but in the process accidentally turned her into a red ant.
As the dream progressed, I began to find myself under Amber's thrall. Eventually, Erica became so fed up with her hatred of Amber that they decided to settle it. Since this could not, of course, be done in a physical way, both because Amber would kick her ass and my brain cannot comprehend such simple and logical solutions, they locked themselves in the basement and had a guitar-off. They both played on guitars that seemed to be made of baby powder, were heart-shaped, and strangely silent. To Erica's dismay, Amber won the guitar-off, though how this was determined since neither guitar produced noise, I am unsure.
Then, there was an ice-skating competition. By this point, my sister had mystically transformed into some strange modern-day combination of both Lucy Lawless and the actual Xena herself. This was, as is the nature of dreams, completely normal. And Xena is a marvelous ice-skater, if I may say so myself. A bunch of us - who's us? I have no clue - were sitting on the steps into the basement-turned-ice-rink singing and cheering her on. We were, for some reason, singing "We're Gonna Score" from Grease 2. My dreams are very detailed, and in the dream there was a word I couldn't remember in the song. Now, awake all day, I still can't remember it.
So I looked it up. It was "bop". I believe that I replaced it with "fuck" or some variant thereof in my dream, because logically, when you have a big empty honking space where a word should be, "fuck" is always an adequate replacement.
This dream took place roughly between 7am, when I'd first woken up, and 11:30. While I was intrigued and anxious to see who would win the skate-off, my mother called from work, tearing me from my dream, to tell me that she had accidentally deleted an e-mail of mine that I later, upon waking further, realized that I had never sent.
So yes. I don't know how it ends, though my mother is insister that Xena kicked Amber's ass. There is a gripping, bestselling novel in there somewhere, but I'm probably too close to the picture to find it.
I also wanted to talk about how much I love music, and how frustrated I am that I have never been adequate at writing songs, but the dream has usurped the main plot of this entry, as dreams are ever wont to do. So my musical woes must be saved for a later date while I am just going through the motions.
Peace, love, Xena.