Er... what?
OK, that dream where I couldn't get a trip to London to work in my anomalous brain... has been expanded upon.
It started the same, only this time it's like I wake up at the airport, about to board. I'm confused, I don't know why I'm going to London, and I'm very sure I don't have a hotel booked, but I'm game for the trip, figuring I'll just go to a hostel or get a room on short notice somewhere not-horrible, and it'll be fine.
The flight takes five minutes. Seriously, I sit down and the steward gives me a baggie of peanuts, not a little foil packet but a whole sandwich bag full, and I open it up and discover there are raisins and coconut chunks too, and then the steward comes around and takes it back, and ushers me off the plane.
I walk down one of those sets of stairs they used to push up to planes on a regular basis, and I'm standing on a wide green lawn in front of Big Ben. And Parliament. And Buckingham Palace. Yes, all leading off this one large swath of bright green grass. This doesn't seem at all unusual, of course, because these are the iconic images of London, so clearly I'm where I ought to be.
The robotic luggage cart is back, and it follows me as I cross the lawn, go into Buckingham Palace, and request a room. A nice young lady in a palace guard giant black fuzzy hat leads me through a maze of rooms, until we come to a kitchen. Then we go down, wheat seems like three or four stories, and I'm shown to what she calls the Aerie, and I start to argue because aeries are found UP places, not down, but when she opens the door to let me in, we're behind the clock face of Big Ben, and it's been set up so the gears and such don't make noise, and the luggage cart, which wasn't at all bothered by the stairs, can plug itself into a gearbox behind the door.
Folks, I got a steampunk room behind the face of Big Ben, which is apparently several floors below the kitchens of Buckingham Palace, and the view is of Parliament and the Thames River.
There's a confused blur of places and people, and I'm very popular with everyone, and I get a couple of marriage proposals, which I laugh off - I'm a free spirit, how silly! - and then it's time to go home.
I walk back to the Palace from some bar in a place called Chester (I have no idea), and my luggage cart is waiting on the lawn next to the plane, but I'm not allowed to fly home, so we walk down to the Thames, and get on a yacht, and I go in to get something to eat, but by the time I've had a trout sandwich, we're home and the crew carries me off the boat like I'm the Queen of some exotic place, and my luggage cart has somehow earned a Medal of Valour.
And then I woke up to Arlo sitting on my chest, talking at me.
It started the same, only this time it's like I wake up at the airport, about to board. I'm confused, I don't know why I'm going to London, and I'm very sure I don't have a hotel booked, but I'm game for the trip, figuring I'll just go to a hostel or get a room on short notice somewhere not-horrible, and it'll be fine.
The flight takes five minutes. Seriously, I sit down and the steward gives me a baggie of peanuts, not a little foil packet but a whole sandwich bag full, and I open it up and discover there are raisins and coconut chunks too, and then the steward comes around and takes it back, and ushers me off the plane.
I walk down one of those sets of stairs they used to push up to planes on a regular basis, and I'm standing on a wide green lawn in front of Big Ben. And Parliament. And Buckingham Palace. Yes, all leading off this one large swath of bright green grass. This doesn't seem at all unusual, of course, because these are the iconic images of London, so clearly I'm where I ought to be.
The robotic luggage cart is back, and it follows me as I cross the lawn, go into Buckingham Palace, and request a room. A nice young lady in a palace guard giant black fuzzy hat leads me through a maze of rooms, until we come to a kitchen. Then we go down, wheat seems like three or four stories, and I'm shown to what she calls the Aerie, and I start to argue because aeries are found UP places, not down, but when she opens the door to let me in, we're behind the clock face of Big Ben, and it's been set up so the gears and such don't make noise, and the luggage cart, which wasn't at all bothered by the stairs, can plug itself into a gearbox behind the door.
Folks, I got a steampunk room behind the face of Big Ben, which is apparently several floors below the kitchens of Buckingham Palace, and the view is of Parliament and the Thames River.
There's a confused blur of places and people, and I'm very popular with everyone, and I get a couple of marriage proposals, which I laugh off - I'm a free spirit, how silly! - and then it's time to go home.
I walk back to the Palace from some bar in a place called Chester (I have no idea), and my luggage cart is waiting on the lawn next to the plane, but I'm not allowed to fly home, so we walk down to the Thames, and get on a yacht, and I go in to get something to eat, but by the time I've had a trout sandwich, we're home and the crew carries me off the boat like I'm the Queen of some exotic place, and my luggage cart has somehow earned a Medal of Valour.
And then I woke up to Arlo sitting on my chest, talking at me.