My brain does odd things when I sleep.
Last night I had a series of bizarre, interrelated dreams involving: wolves chasing mice in the snow; me directing a play or musical whose cast included a girl with long, crinkly black hair, my high school crush, and some creatures who may have been space aliens; hanging out with Montgomery Gentry to evaluate somehow the aforementioned theatrical production (and frala, you bet your ass I was flirting with Troy!), and also they were bailiffs for a court trial or something in which my mom was involved and badgering Troy and Eddie. I wish I could remember more details because it was a damned entertaining dream.
It's stuff like this that makes me thoroughly sceptical of any prophetic or divinatory content in dreams. Seriously.
I read Völsunga saga finally, and, um, why exactly is this a classic? It's nothing but adults acting like bratty little children! Brynhild is a bitter, jealous, petty, shallow, thoughtless bitch! The only character with a shred of decency is Sigurd (actually, Fafnir wasn't so bad, but he was a dragon and therefore Eeeeevil and had to be killed just-because). I mean, yeah it was a different time and culture, but still, for all their talk of valour and honour these people are about as horrible as can be. It's even worse than modern soap operas.
It's stuff like this that makes me thoroughly sceptical of any prophetic or divinatory content in dreams. Seriously.
I read Völsunga saga finally, and, um, why exactly is this a classic? It's nothing but adults acting like bratty little children! Brynhild is a bitter, jealous, petty, shallow, thoughtless bitch! The only character with a shred of decency is Sigurd (actually, Fafnir wasn't so bad, but he was a dragon and therefore Eeeeevil and had to be killed just-because). I mean, yeah it was a different time and culture, but still, for all their talk of valour and honour these people are about as horrible as can be. It's even worse than modern soap operas.