semperfiona: (alicia)
at a memorabilia store for a congratulations on your graduation present for rosa
can't remember why but for some reason needed to take my shirt off and wrap in a purple blanket, did it in a secluded corner
find a tie-pin style charm and some parchment, write a calligraphed note to go with it
store jammed with people in every nook and cranny
can't find a corner to put my shirt back on
through a door is a room with elderly men painting/gilding molded figures & charms
go up on a moving platform for star wars memorabilia display because it seems empty
followed by many people
leave there, duck behind a curtain into a laundry facility display, followed by people again
finally just use the blanket to cover self while putting shirt on
leave the store go to restaurant next door for lunch
everyone is there ahead of me, big table for us but only tammie seated at it, everyone's stuff in chairs
only empty chair is at the far end of table
somehow realize shirt is inside out
go out to find a bathroom
find a covered indoor alley, shops and doors
men standing on line for the mens room
asked where is the ladies
one directed me, told me I was going to love it
no line!
folding door that first opened just one segment then collapsed into the wall
each individual stall decorated and styled separately from a different place and period in design history
taking pictures of everything
a boudoir/dressing room with a bed, all made of pink and green marble
changing shirt, it has a million little buttons
other ladies come in and lounge in the room
they are opening drawers and using the sachets and cosmetics supplied
leaving the room, it had an attached shower as well as a toilet
cleaning lady working in the shower, thank her
exit the maze of bathrooms out a different door with the other ladies
they are going to a pottery making store
bright colors and calder-style stabile
more photos
back into the lavatory maze, because now I need to pee and then find my peeps
looking again at all the different toilets
opening cupboards with fancy curtained and decorated doors
multiple different doors on the same cupboards, give up on some before finding contents
open another one blue with small bright flowers
top is an arrangement of flowers made of dry branches and ceramic
each drawer snack supplies
variety of steaming cream soups in blue and white crocks
last drawer labeled 'seated sally jane, 1140'
slides open to a chamberpot

At this point I realized I was having one of my 'bathroom dreams' and I needed to get up to pee. but I have never had one so beautiful or about such an amazing toilet facility. Usually they verge on nightmares, each one more disgusting than the next, and I try to forget them as quickly as possible once I realize what they are telling me. This one, I'd like to keep. Wish I knew what town that amazing ladies room was supposed to be in, but I don't think I knew even in the dream, although "Charleston" wants to be in my brain. Not that I've ever been to Charleston.
semperfiona: (amber)
On reflection, I'm sure it was a dream.

The Ambercon hotel called and told Chris that my reservation had been cancelled because Rush Limbaugh needed the room for someone in his entourage. "But she can have this other room that's twice as expensive if she pays the difference!"

I got so angry. Cue ranting and raving about how he can afford the better room if he wants somewhere to stay, about how I was there first, about how the hotel should give me the better room for the same rate if they're going to bump me, etc etc.

But I'm sure the whole thing was a dream.

- the hotel does not have Chris's number to call him
- and anyway they would not call anyone but the name on the reservation to discuss it
- and there are no missed calls on my phone
- and in the real world they don't tell you the name of the person in whose favor you were bumped
- and generally if you're offered an upgrade in the case of a bump, they eat the cost
semperfiona: (alicia)
We had taken a spur-of-the-moment trip to Europe. It was sponsored through some group, I'm not sure which, and someone dropped out so we joined at the last minute. It was to be France for three days, Belgium or Germany for a day and England for a day.

No memory of the travel to Europe, but there we all were in Paris (T, C, Rosa and me). We had a hotel called something like Ostropole (it was not Metropole) with a yellow plastic-like modern facade.

First day Rosa and I went to a casino, the Astra. We didn't gamble but just looked around. Then the tide came in and began to submerge the building. Everyone left, in a mostly orderly fashion as this happened quite regularly. We got a taxi back to our hotel and the car had to drive through an arm of the sea which now covered the casino and a goodly portion of the district. Did I mention that dream-Paris was nothing like the real thing, not even in geography?

The next day we took a drive down to the southern coast, although the drive down was elided by my dream. We had a little rowboat, which my dream kept calling a paddleboat, and rowed around in the ocean. We had also used it in the submerged district the previous day. The return drive was harrowing. Tammie was driving, I don't know why, she never drives when we're all together, and definitely never drives anywhere she's never been before, but she was driving with aplomb along one of those cliffside coastal roads that is just barely wide enough for one car and not blinking when we had to pass parked heavy equipment so that we skimmed the guard rail on the left side of the road right over the pounding surf yards below.

Back in Paris, we paddled around the submerged casino district again: you could see its neon lights under the water. Then we decided to go back to the hotel--somehow we no longer had a car, so we needed a taxi again. Chris hired one, but he insisted that he would drive. Taxi Man gave in, eventually, despite his arguments about car insurance and taxicab license.

It was a normal yellow taxi from the outside, but had three barebones rows of seats inside. We all got in, Chris got in the driver's seat and we set off, with the taxi man navigating. His English was very accented and his voice was soft, so Chris kept missing his turn directions. We drove right past the hotel, missing three consecutive right turns to get into the parking lot and finally Chris heard him tell us to turn left.

The left turn took us into a very steep very twisty rollercoaster of a road with many crossroads. This route was exclusively used by taxis and had tolls applied to the taxi license at every corner via RFID or the like. We missed a lot of turns and ended up trapped at the bottom of a very steep hill with nowhere to go. The car we were following to the hotel (yeah, I don't know where that came from either) had taken a jump at a previous point, as part of the correct route, but we missed it and now could not fathom how to get back. Taxi Man told us to get out of the car, handed us his cabbie medallion-equivalent on which we had racked up untold charges, and said to take it to Illinois or England and get rid of it there.
semperfiona: (castle)
I think it's because we're doing a lot of work on the house this spring/early summer--what with Emma moving in--I've been having dreams about a house. It's not this house, it's not a house I've ever actually seen, but it's HUUUUUUGE, has all kinds of hidden rooms and balconies, a freaking parking garage in one dream...

In today's dream I re-discovered or reopened a whole floor in the house. Reopened a room with a wooden floor painted pink, where the windows had been left open but somehow nothing important was damaged. Just a lot of disused woodgrain plastic 3-ring binders. "I can use this as a craft room!"

Outside the pink floored room was a balcony that from the outside looked like a Disney castle covered in flowering vines. There were some neighbors out there, we had a conversation I can't remember.

Back inside, the next room was full of ancient and deteriorating Japanese and Korean stringed instruments. An elderly Japanese lady was trying to repair them--she wouldn't accept payment unless the repairs succeeded, and they didn't seem to be going well. She was tying off each individual string to a woven fabric piece that was dry-rotted; I couldn't see how it could hold the knots for long.

There was an enormous bathroom with a big shower. I remember thinking how good it would be not to have all six of us sharing a single shower anymore.

More details escape me at this late hour. Should have made notes immediately.
semperfiona: (sleepy rosa)
Why is it that, when the alarm goes off and you hit snooze, good dreams disappear and cannot be picked back up, but nightmares continue just like a TV series after a commercial break?
semperfiona: (rain leaves)
Dreamed I had a book contract sent to me. Signed it, and went around to all my friends waving it around. It was a write-to-outline romance; there was a several paragraph precis of the plot, which involved lions in some way. I remember saying something like, "See, that saves me having to decide what happens, which is always the hardest part of writing for me!" (True, that.)

The contract itself, of course, was in my own name, but the "author" line on the documents listed "Becky Wagon", the name under which they planned to sell the book. I remember thinking several things about that: 2) what a horrific choice for a romance-writer-name. It had something to do with the title of the book, which was not "Paint your Wagon" but had something about wagons in it; 2) it wouldn't do anything to establish a name for me, but then 3) if I ever did write anything of my own I wouldn't want this associated with it anyway.

For a while in the dream I was hanging out with [ profile] matociquala while she was chatting with fans and signing books, and she congratulated me on my contract.

In the packet as well was a description of a (fictional) town in England called Shenthorpe and some ads (fake) for local businesses there. All the same, I told [ profile] lavendargrrl and [ profile] ohari that this meant we could go to England and call it a business expense.

So later in the dream, we were in Sheffield across a very busy street from our hotel. Nearly got killed by a lorry trying to cross the street, but eventually made it in safety. I remember saying that Ray and I had stayed at this hotel once, years ago (although in reality I don't think we ever went to Sheffield). The computers were down at the registration desk, so they had to use paper, which they put into pale blue file folders.

Weirdly enough, at no point in this dream did I ever actually fax or mail back the signed contract. Maybe my subconscious edited that part as uninteresting, or maybe my subconscious doesn't really believe I'd ever in a million years get a book contract.

ETA: I forgot to mention something important. The contract and all the related papers were fluorescent hot pink, except the page of fake Shenthorpe ads, which was white.
semperfiona: (flan)
Apparently zombie dreams are contagious. [ profile] reannon, [ profile] maiabee8, and this morning, me. My subconscious is less overt than some. My zombie dream did not contain any actual zombies, only a lot of attempts at preparation: convincing people that zombies were coming, that they should shut and lock the security gates, board up windows, etc.

The first part was in a corridor with several of those telescoping gates, all open or partially open. I kept trying to convince the people they should shut and lock them, and they kept refusing because someone else might come.

Most of it was set in a fast food restaurant with big glass windows. We used duct tape to cover the windows so that even if the zombies broke them they would not fall in. We put self-starting charcoal briquets in the window sills and gave the nearest person a cigarette lighter.
semperfiona: (higgledy piggledy)
After the quake this morning, I fell back into a semi-sleep, and dreamed that I was looking through my house for damage. The upstairs was similar to my actual house, but the downstairs was a very complicated house with many rooms and staircases, and strewn with broken china and glassware.

Also, about 10:15 we felt an aftershock. USGS is calling that one a 4.2. It didn't last as long, either.
semperfiona: (holly snow)
Good: Tammie and I have been to two roller derby practices with the Arch Rival Roller Girls this week. They've been very welcoming and very encouraging about our chances to gain the needed skills.

Bad: My knees and ass have lovely big bruises to show for it, and I'm sore in just about every muscle I own. Frighteningly, that's from only partial practices. Monday we skipped the strength training and did some simple skate drills (which accounts for the bruises), and Tuesday we did the strength training--or as much of it as our muscles would stand--but skipped the skating on account of a) it was going to be more advanced than we felt ready for and b) Chris was at home watching Rosa and didn't feel well. The plan is to go back on Thursday for more punishment.

Unknown: After a week of practices, we'll hopefully have a good idea of whether we can take this. Whether or not we actually have the time to devote three nights a week to skate practice is another open question.

Good: Finished foiling the glass for Conflation last night
Bad: My fingers are all sliced up
Good: Acupuncture appointment this morning
Bad: Fuel gauge idiot light was on
Good: Winning $6 scratcher ticket
Bad: The gas station clerk obliterated the validation numbers on the ticket and after waiting fifteen minutes or so while she called the Lottery to try to pay it, in the end I have to take the stupid thing to the Lottery office to claim my six bucks
Worse: Zooming to work late, I got a traffic ticket

I'm the man with the gun: Last night/this morning I had a weird dream featuring Ray. I was with Rosa somewhere: a shopping mall or similar; there were a lot of people around. Ray came in with two guys I didn't know, who said they were going to rob the place. He gave them a handgun to use for the robbery. It turned into a hostage situation...but the only thing I found myself thinking was "If we get out of this alive, I'll have sole a firearm to someone to use in a crime is a felony." (Of course, being as I could identify him, I probably wasn't going to be allowed to survive the experience, but I didn't think that during the dream.)

Two things

Aug. 2nd, 2006 02:09 am
semperfiona: (boomer)
Further to Monday's post about consent and my subconscious...I had a dream last night/this morning in which I had lots of kissing with someone I've crushed on for nigh fifteen years. At a point at which it might have seemed things would go further, my brain instead imagined me turning myself into a gorgon and being bitten by my own snakes. If that's not a subconscious Don't Go There flag, I can't think what would be.


Today was a good day. I was driving Chris nuts on the way to the stadium because I kept being all smiley and happy and wouldn't let his "are we there yet"'s get to me.

Even the fact that I'm still up, after getting home from the ballpark at midnight and then having to do actual *work*, isn't getting me down.

Nor even the distressing phone call from Diane (aka Nurse KnockYouUp) at the clinic this evening. She says the progesterone blood test Friday does not show levels consistent with ovulation, and has called in a higher-dose prescription of Clomid. But she also said it's possible that the test was too late in my cycle, and the progesterone might have already decreased. So I still don't know anything for sure, except that I haven't gotten a period yet.
semperfiona: Conversation hearts on the keys of a piano (piano hearts)
A dream involving Mick Jagger, the words "Where are the condoms", and no sex at all.

First, hanging out with Keith Richards at a front yard picnic table.

Then, hanging out with Mick in a penthouse, sitting on the bed even. Needed a ponytail ring for some reason. He said, "where's the condoms?", went off and came back with an enormous pile of them. Stretched several over his hands. One was purple and bulgy. Cut one to make a stretchy loop which I put in my hair.

We played dominoes and cards and I met his girlfriend Francesca. She was called Steve, but only by close friends. I told her I'd wait a while before trying to call her Steve, but we got on well.

He wrote me a song called something like "Love Camp".

I had to go away because I was moving house. Francesca was too.

Then there I was at a Stones concert, sitting with Francesca, with a place saved for me. Yeah, I know. They started off with the new song Love Camp and Mick was looking all over for his new friend who wasn't there yet. In I dash with an armful of pink flowered comforter that had just come out of the dryer. Had to wait for it to get dry before I could leave for the concert.

Then I was back at home with Chris and Tammie, and we were going out to dinner. They couldn't believe I'd spent the day/evening with Mick Jagger without any sex, but I had his notes for the new song.


A question/answer program, someone asked "Why does [my wife] carry light bulbs in her dress?" Answer: "because they're hot." A question about an old-fashioned water closet that wasn't draining right, complete with scale model.

[The third alarm, and I get up to go get Rosa.]
semperfiona: (kiss)
I was shopping with Tammie at a little boutique giftshop. We found a series of prints of art collages with flowers--and some of my old writings from highschool. My name was even on the pages. Even though I had actually thrown away these documents (in the dream, anyway), I felt I should be getting some recompense for their use, that the artist's use was far beyond "fair use" of them. So I confronted the store owner to get the artist's name, and found out she had a studio upstairs in the very same mall. Tammie and I went up to her studio, which was full of students, and I asked "Do you have some time to discuss a legal matter?" She looked horrified. Then I asked her about the papers. She said, "Aren't they all in public domain?" I said, "Remains to be seen. Did you try to find the owner?" She said, "You'll be disappointed. She died in 1882." Um, no. "No," I said, "she's sitting right here, very much alive." I told her, though, that I wasn't interested in stopping her from selling her art, I just felt I should have a share of the income, having been the creator of part of the content.


Jan. 29th, 2005 07:51 am
semperfiona: (sleepy rosa)
It was like a murder mystery, only the victim hadn't been killed yet. I and the other investigator were asked to follow up on a man's fear that he was targeted for murder. We found a pack of twelve tarot-like cards, each marked with a sealing wax symbol over the face. The thirteenth card--Invention--was missing. We knew then that he was right, that he represented Invention and would be killed shortly because he was a famous inventor. There had been twelve other recent unsolved murders, and each one easily fit one of the cards in hand.

We went to his house. The victim was a large bearded man with dark hair. He was nearly dying anyway, of consumption or some other coughing wheezing disease. He lay in a big open room with red walls, heavy drapes, and a lot of ornate but heavy furniture. A servant sat on the edge of his bed holding a handkerchief to his mouth when he coughed.

We were just in time to meet the intended murderers. They were three little girls--about nine months, seven, and twelve--who reminded me of Ivy from the Harry Dresden books. They all spoke (yes, even the baby) in a ritualistic and "high" manner, instructing the people in the room (of which there were several others) just what they were going to do. No one was able to lift a finger to stop them because they had some sort of witchcraft power. They told my partner and I to sit on a sofa, and we could do nothing but sit. Then they said we had to sit at opposite ends of it, and we each moved away.

Then I woke up.
semperfiona: (Default)
Finally getting around to writing about this morning's dreams, from the sketchy notes I made for myself when I first woke up.

First I dreamed I was cooking breakfast for Jen. I was cooking oatmeal but she wanted malt (i.e. Malt-O-Meal, something my mother used to feed us and I haven't even thought of in donkey's years), so I turned the oatmeal off just as it was getting done and we headed out together to buy some malt.

Then I was playing three-handed pinochle with Liz and Matt on a table beside a lake with a rickety bridge across it. We were just getting started, she dealt the first hand and couldn't figure out what to do with the extra cards. I told her they needed to be put aside for the person who takes the bid "instead of passing cards like you do in four-handed". There still weren't the right number of cards, and we discovered that there were a lot of extra instruction cards that had gotten shuffled into the deck. I am just about to redeal after pulling all those cards out when Rosa screams. She's swimming in the middle of the lake with her little life vest on, but it has gotten stuck on the bridge and pulled off of her and she's sinking fast. I run around for a few seconds trying to decide whether to run across the bridge or dive in and then just dive. She's still screaming and sinking. I get to her in time, she grabs me but she's okay. As I'm swimming back to shore I get caught in a current I can't escape.

Then my parents are visiting me at college. I've designed a t-shirt that people are selling (quite successfully, I might add; one of the salespeople has a fistful of cash that she shows me). The shirts are light blue with a black design. I can't remember the wording but I know I was embarrassed about my parents seeing them, and I have a vague notion it was a joke slogan likening someone to Hitler. Someone else is also selling blue and black shirts with a blackletter S printed on them. ([ profile] truefireflower, the exact same S that Puck had, except black on blue instead of red on black.) My parents and I are having lunch at the cafeteria/dining hall. Dad's still hungry because his food was inedible. He and I go back through the line to get him something else, but all the stainless steel heating trays are empty. We try getting him some snacky stuff. Then we have to be somewhere and the dream is over.
semperfiona: (Default)
For the first time in several weeks I had and remembered a dream this morning, or maybe it was two dreams. I'm not sure what the segue was between the separate segments, if there was one. I think having spent the weekend creatively made a difference.

I have noted my mood is much better since Friday or so. It's not that I was depressed before, but I'm actively happy now. I've even gotten going in the morning much more easily, and arrived at work on time two days in a row! I know that doesn't sound like much, but I had been dragging more and more, arriving later and later, until there were a couple days last week that I didn't arrive until nearly ten a.m.

My weekend of gardening has been very therapeutic for me. I'm so proud of my work, and just getting intimate with Mother Earth is wonderfully refreshing. I have to remember this lesson, and not let other things separate me from my creativity. Now for my next trick--get back to writing morning pages every day and start doing the weekly Artist's Way tasks again. I think I am going to restart completely, since I've lost the thread of it.

On to the dreams.

I dreamed I had been arrested and thrown in jail for selling drugs, along with an older man I did not know. In the cell, while we awaited our interviews with the police, he tried to convince me to confess. I knew I was innocent, and that he was trying to get out of it by blaming me.

My turn for interview came first, and I went with the policeman to his office. He was asking me about my finances, I guess trying to prove that I had more money than my job--at the police station!--would account for. I told him about paying off my mortgage a little extra each month, and really boring things like that. I also told him that the other man had been trying to make me confess but I didn't do anything. A secretary told him "She's a four," which had something to do with my pay grade at the police station. Then he asked me what my DSN was (it's an acronym used at the SLMPD and means employee number). I said "2577". I don't remember whether that is actually my old DSN from when I worked for the SLMPD, but it could well be. After a while they let me go. As I walked out I saw the other guy being taken in for his interview.

I went down to the parking garage to get my car, and on the way I saw him leaning out of an upper window as if he were about to jump. I yelled, "Don't jump!" and his head withdrew. When I got to the parking garage, he was there in a car opposite mine. I thought at first that he was going to ram my car for my having told on him. But no, he pulled back and I saw that the car was an ancient opentopped behemoth, three rows of seats crammed full with seventeen kids--yes, exact number, not exaggeration--and a wife. The older girls and his wife were wearing those stiff bonnet-caps that the Mennonites or Amish wear. He said to me that he had been married and divorced five times. I suppose it was by way of explaining the extreme number of children or the necessity for ill-gotten funds from drug sales, or both.

Then suddenly I was in my garden with [ profile] curgoth and [ profile] neeuqdrazil. My saxophone case and some other miscellaneous junk was piled against some of my new plants. I think if there was any connection between this and the previous dream it was that I thought the other guy had done the minor vandalism as revenge. I was concerned for my saxophone, but cg reassured me that it would be fine because it had been inside the case. We started complaining about a new edition of the Amber books that had been bowdlerized beyond recognition, while planting something grassy with long purple plumes similar to pampas grass.


Mar. 16th, 2002 07:45 am
semperfiona: (Default)
A night of strange and unsettling dreams. Not for any real horror in them, but for their realism and accuracy of targeting. And I had a second dream where I remembered the first one! That was new to me.

I dreamt that I was puttering about on Wednesday morning. I drove a minivan past the driveway I was heading for, had to go down the hill and turn around to come back up. Then I was riding bicycles with dj. We plopped on some grass and just relaxed. He took off his shoes and had one extra toe on the left foot and four extra on the right. (Sorry dj, I know your toes are perfectly normal. It was a dream.) Then I was in a minivan with my in-laws. I realized that it was nine o'clock and my flight left at ten. I was nowhere near the airport and hadn't even packed yet. I got frantic and asked her to take me home right away. We started off but had to go through a cemetery. It was packed with the biggest and gaudiest funeral I've ever seen. Flag twirlers, phalanxes of people with matching umbrellas, crowds in white dresses. The way we wanted to go had a gate across, so we went a different way. Soon there was a gate there too. We opened it and went on, down a narrowing lane that turned sharply and became a narrow staircase. We were hemmed in by stone walls and masses of people. We got out of the vehicle and tried to walk out of the cemetery. Everyone else was going the other way. Armida dropped her camera in a puddle. She fussed for a bit. I told them to pick it up right away and maybe it'd be okay. Ray reached down and got it. It was still displaying the date and time in LCD on the back so apparently it was all right. We went on, passing through a big dining room. By now it was 9:53. I tried to borrow their cell phone to call the airline and reschedule my flight, but could not reach the airline "Jerunet": it was not office hours for them. I couldn't find any numbers at all, for the airport or anything. We went on. The only way onward was across a canal or something, which had a flat raft-like ferry set up. They used ti for the trash. I got on the ferry and wanted to just push off immediately but had to wait for Hank and the busboy from the dining room to get on. They poled the raft across.

About then I woke up in a panic that I had in fact missed my flight. It was still very dark, so I convinced myself I had been dreaming, ran over the dream tin my mind to remember it for later, and went back to sleep. Only to dream that it was later that same day. I had missed the plane. I was still trying to make new arrangements, without success. I was in an office. I remembered the name but have not forgotten, but it seemed like a cross between a counseling service and a telephone survey firm. They let me use their phone. I called the airline again, still didn't manage to get through. Then they suggested I call a retired travel agent they knew. I called him, he answered the phone a bit grumpy at being disturbed during his dinner or nap or whatever, but he was very kind and grandfatherly to me. He talked me through the whole ordeal, asked about the tickets, said, "I didn't think Jerunet flew here." I told him I thought my ticket might be the first flight or at least today was the first day. Somehow or other we figured out that today was not Wednesday yet, and that I had only dreamed of missing my plane, and he laughed for a long time, until I finally laughed too.

Just when I was trying to fall asleep from this second dream, the phone rang. I ran downstairs to answer it; it was a wrong number. I went back to my room where the clock read 6:30 and got back into bed to argue with myself about going back to sleep or getting up to write morning pages. Finally I decided to get up and write out these dreams on the computer rather than in my morning pages notebook.
semperfiona: (Default)
I was painting a watercolor landscape, just letting the brush line lead me. It was very ethereal and beautiful. Then I painted a huge mass of clouds and smoke in the middle of the page so that it looked like a geyser erupting. Later I saw my father with a chestnut tree in acrylic on canvas that he had painted. His instructor had told him to crop it differently and fill in more of the bottom, so he was repainting the tree. I remember being quite shocked to learn that chestnuts were blue. He was doing them in a rectangle for the perspective, and told me he had done it as a square but the teacher suggested a rectangle. Then we painted a whole bunch of blue chestnuts and rolled them in some gray fibers so that they looked like Italian prune plums with that silvery sheen on their surface, only bigger and rounder.
semperfiona: (Default)
Interesting. The correlation appears to be true. I've been complaining lately that I have not remembered any dreams, and also that I haven't been getting enough sleep. Last night I went to be quite early (10:30) and I had a vivid dream that I remember. I remembered more before I spent the last couple hours cuddling and holding Rosa. She's having a rough morning--she has a very bad cough and a fever--and so am I, because of it. She's demanding even more of my attention than usual, and got up very early. Morning pages did not happen, but at least I woke up feeling refreshed and alert, as I have not for a couple weeks now.
Anyway, the dream involved some terrorist attacks, both of which happened in Wisconsin, one in Chippewa Falls or some other town that starts with a C, and the other in Sheboygan. I remember feeling quite indignant after the second one, that Wisconsin had gotten far more than its share of injury. The Sheboygan attack was nuclear, on the airport, and I saw the place afterward. Images seared on walls, and much wreckage of planes. For some odd reason they had a Concorde at this airport.
Details are escaping me, but no one I knew was harmed.
semperfiona: (Default)
Cheated a bit on the reading thing. I've read email too many times, but then, I've been hoping and expecting a particular message. I was supposed to go out to the club with Pam tonight, but she didn't write, and she hasn't called, so I keep checking in case she did write. I thought of calling her, but I called her last time. It's her turn to call me!

What I have not done, though, is pick up a book and immerse myself in it, which is my normal behavior for a Saturday. Last night I made a list of all the things I could do if I'm not reading, and was surprised to find how quickly it reached two pages long. I think I may need to do this more often: perhaps every other Saturday or something.

What else I did today?

I had a really long dream this morning. It took me two pages to write down even the scraps of it that I could remember. One of the most memorable scenes was me introducing Ray to "this is my girlfriend, this is my other girlfriend, this is my boyfriend and this is my other boyfriend." And another was a young round-faced nun in pink, wearing a sheer black veil in mourning of Christ's death. Overall it was such a good dream that I did not want to wake up and lose it. I kept trying to go back to sleep to get back to that world.

I tried to get license plates for my new car, but the license office no longer has Saturday hours.

I collected the books that the library had on reserve for me. But I didn't open them!

I washed the dishes.

I called Jen and talked to her for about half an hour, learned that she had fallen down the stairs last night and couldn't go out.

I picked up some clutter from the living room floor.

So I went to see Lord of the Rings alone. I am so in love with Legolas. And I rather like Aragorn too. Being poly means you don't have to choose...right?

I came home, thinking Pam might have left a message, but there was nothing. So I did my nails. I put falsies on for the first time in years, and I'm not really very happy with them. They didn't fit very well, so my real nails show underneath, and it's awkward to type. But I'll leave them on for a few days anyway.

Then I called Kirk and talked to him for about an hour. That was really good. I think it had been nearly a year since we'd talked. I visited him last February, and I can't remember a conversation after that. It's amazing, though, our friendship is strong enough after all this time and all the things that have happened, that we can just pick up where we left off and be really open with each other about things in our lives.
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I wanted to post this first thing when I got up but LJ was down. I tried to remember it all day but am left with only bits and pieces. It was another convention, in a hotel that was being remodeled around us: there were chips of wood everywhere, and gaping holes in the walls (from whence the chips had come). I was with Liss and another girl I've never seen before, a thin girl with long wavy brown hair. It might've been Jen if she continues losing weight. Anyway, she and I were together, kissing and caressing and stuff all the time. Then after a day or so I saw her and Liss snuggling on a couch. They told me they were going out somewhere together and I got pouty about being left out but Liss called me on it and I apologized, and everything was okay. When they got back we all snuggled together.


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September 2017

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