resonant: Brian from The Breakfast Club: Demented and sad, but social (Default)
[personal profile] panisdead prompts: dreams. Any way you choose to interpret.

I've been fascinated by dreams since I was in the fourth grade. I have a fair number of flying dreams, which are wonderful, and a fair number of tedious to-do-list dreams, which are annoying. Once I dreamed I lay down and took a nap. Very restful.

A dream category I pay special attention to is one where I'm responsible for spaces, or possessions, or both -- I feel like those dreams represent my self. Sometimes I'm overjoyed to discover that I have a second kitchen I didn't know about, or a library full of comic books that I don't know anything about but suspect might be valuable. Sometimes it's a horrible burden, full of unpleasant messes that only get worse with neglect.

Not long after Dad died, I dreamed that a big storage container was brought up to the house, full of stuff from all phases of my life -- stuff from when I was a kid, ancestral stuff from my father's family (including the china that I hate and live in fear of inheriting), stuff from every relative's house I've visited. The cabinet where my favorite aunt used to keep the coloring books, the table where my war-bride aunt used to lay out tiny pies on a silver tray on a tartan cloth.

Read more... )
resonant: Brian from The Breakfast Club: Demented and sad, but social (Default)
I'm having kind of a rough few weeks. But the other night, I dreamed that someone came to me with a wide forearm band made of a single cross-section of horn, and when this person said, "It came from the bull," I said, "Then it's for me."

It wasn't polished; it was slightly splintery on the outside. No metal, no carvings, no decorations of any kind. (Also no hinge, which realistically would probably have made it unwearable ...) I wish I had a picture of it. It seemed important.
resonant: Brian from The Breakfast Club: Demented and sad, but social (Default)
Last night I dreamed that bandits attacked a cabin I was in, but all the little old ladies from my old church came and fought them off for me. They boobytrapped the cabin so that when the guys opened a door, bowling balls came down on their heads -- but they also just straight-up kicked and punched. It was amazing.

Apparently the creature that has a mystic protective connection with my soul is a retired teacher with a perm.
resonant: Brian from The Breakfast Club: Demented and sad, but social (Default)
Last night, I composed an e-mail in my dreams, which said:



1. What does the bandicoot eat?
2. Other than food and water, does she need anything?
3. Can she be petted, or will she bite?
4. Why do we have a bandicoot in the first place?
resonant: Brian from The Breakfast Club: Demented and sad, but social (Default)
I didn't think I was feeling particularly slashy-fannish about "The Avengers" (how could I, when Natasha?) -- but then came the sexy Tony/Bruce dreams.

[taps brain] Huh. All kinds of stuff in there.
resonant: Brian from The Breakfast Club: Demented and sad, but social (Default)
Y'all, I had the most perfectly, hilariously fannish dream, and I was so disappointed to wake up and discover it wasn't real!

See, there were these books.

The first one was a WWII love story between two soldiers. (Somewhat similar to BJ and Hawkeye from "M.A.S.H." Somewhat similar to Steve and Bucky. No superpowers, though.) It was what we used to call by the inelegant name "fuckfest," meaning there were lots of sex scenes, and each one broke another barrier and made them closer and closer, while they evaded discovery and all that it would have entailed, until at last the Bucky figure was discharged first and went home, at which point (you see this coming) the Steve figure was reported killed.

The second one picked up some years later. The Bucky character had returned to the U.S. He owned a restaurant, and he was married; the marriage had originally been a beard for him and something equally depressing for his wife, but by the time the book began, it was neither loveless nor sexless.

Then (you see this coming), the Steve character reappeared. And he fell in love with the wife. And there was a long period of angst and the establishment of three separate couples, until she instituted a happy plural marriage and they all three lived happily ever after.

These were physical books, but they were slash stories, written by one of us. They weren't trying to transcend the genre or anything; they were just topshelf slash stories. The stories weren't available online for some reason, and the books were hard to find, but I had both of them and was very happy about it.

And then! I was in a used bookstore and I found a copy of a novella that fitted in between them, that told the story of the marriage from its beginnings in negotiated loneliness into its establishment as a peculiar sort of love match! I was so excited! I was just getting ready to come home and read it!

And, damn it, I woke up and it wasn't real!
resonant: Brian from The Breakfast Club: Demented and sad, but social (Default)
In the past week, I have had three dreams in which the kidlet and I were responsible for trying to rescue babies, cats, or both. (Once we failed, once the dream caught us in mid-rescue with the ending still uncertain, and I can't remember how the third one came out.)

The spouse is nowhere to be seen in these dreams. I think it's kind of cool, though, that the kidlet now figures in my dreams as an ally in difficult and important work.
resonant: Brian from The Breakfast Club: Demented and sad, but social (Default)
Had to send my MacBook to the Mac hospital to get the trackpad fixed. (Actually I took it across the river, drove through the parking lot of the Kroger, parked in front of the house with the concrete ducks, and went around back to ring the doorbell -- literal truth.)

So before I went, I locked down my documents folder and deleted all my browser history, the way you do. Didn't want to embarrass the ducks.

So now I have to re-train Firefox, because it doesn't even remember that 'f' means 'take me to fuckyeahfanficflamingo'!

Meanwhile, it would appear that my subconscious heard my plea for better sex dreams, because last night I dreamed I was making out with a late-model Elvis Costello. I'll take it.
resonant: Rodney McKay: My mind and welcome to it (My mind and welcome to it)
Dear subconscious,

Don't get me wrong; I'm not complaining about three nights' worth of sex dreams. Feel free to continue the trend.

But do you think it might be possible, next time, to provide me with a partner who is neither a close blood relative nor someone I despise in real life?

I'm not demanding Tom Hardy, but if you could give me a pairing that I wouldn't find loathsome in real life, I would very much appreciate it.

Otherwise, feel free to go back to the long and tediously detailed dreams about cleaning out the refrigerator.
resonant: otter floating on its back, eating a clam. Text: KEEP CLAM (keep clam)
but this morning I dreamed that I took a nap. Like, literally, I dreamed that I lay down and went to sleep.

It was doubly restful!
resonant: Brian from The Breakfast Club: Demented and sad, but social (Default)
In the middle of the night I woke up, absolutely certain that the phrase in my head was the nugget of the best Sherlock story ever. I dragged myself into wakefulness, scrabbled through my nightstand drawer, and scribbled it down before collapsing back into sleep.

This morning I looked at the page. It said, "Intermittent fascination."
resonant: Rodney McKay: My mind and welcome to it (My mind and welcome to it)
These are not my beautiful fandoms, but last night I dreamed a crossover romance between Ianto Jones and Adam Lambert.

The romantic complication was that they met in Discworld during some great religious celebration, and due to the large amounts of religious adoration that were in the air during this time, people were subject to something called "prayover," in which their emotions were artificially heightened by getting caught in the crossfire of other people's prayers.

Now, Ianto knew he was immune to this effect because of the years he spent studying with the History Monks in the Ramtops. But he was fairly sure that anything Adam might feel was the artificial result of the prayover, so he was resisting, though the story held promise of eventual defeat and consequent angst.
resonant: Brian from The Breakfast Club: Demented and sad, but social (Default)
I am so bad about announcing podfics -- sorry to everyone who's done all this hard work and not heard a word from me. [livejournal.com profile] nos4a2no9 has done a podfic of my Due South story, Adorned -- you can find the link here. And [livejournal.com profile] general_jinjur has done a podfic of my Stargate Atlantis story Girlfriend with lovely cover art by [livejournal.com profile] raz0rgirl -- you can find the link here.

Again, here's my policy on podfics, remixes, DVD commentaries, and any and all transformations of my work: go for it.

• Last night I dreamed that David Hewlett and I were doing a little necking, and also a little bonding over how much we loved to hold other people's babies. His baby made no appearance. And I don't even like babies all that much. Give me a kid that can talk back, I say.

• Also last night at 4 a.m. there was a great crash, and now we have no power. (I'm writing this from a coffee shop where I fled for blessed internet.) I opened the windows when the air conditioning went off, and I said to the spouse, "It's amazing how quiet it is out there," and he said, "Well, many of the loudest insects are powered with electricity."
resonant: Brian from The Breakfast Club: Demented and sad, but social (Default)
That sentence was in my head when I woke up. I wish I could remember the dream it came out of.

I may be offline for a few days -- I'm having more iBook troubles, and want to get them fixed while it's still under AppleCare. Also, strangely, I seem to be able to receive e-mail but not to send it. Anyhow, however much I've not been in touch recently? Expect me to not be in touch even more.

Have some pie instead.
resonant: Brian from The Breakfast Club: Demented and sad, but social (Head exploded)
I dreamed I was reading a book of poetry whose title was You Still Don't Realize You're On TV.

Note: Iambic pentameter.
resonant: Brian from The Breakfast Club: Demented and sad, but social (Overheard)
Well, I forgot to tell anyone I was away, but now I'm back, and here are various oddities from the trip.

The last night I was at my parents' house, I dreamed our community was planning a gala arts event that united the botanical garden and the classic-movie theater. It was called "Jaws In Bloom."

The sad thing is that it's almost plausible.


Read more... )

Enabler

Jul. 4th, 2006 01:53 pm
resonant: Brian from The Breakfast Club: Demented and sad, but social (My mind)
Last night I dreamed I tempted the Ingalls sisters into a life of crime. (You know, Laura and Mary and Carrie from the books.) When they told me they didn't want to steal, I said, "Well, you need money. You could do yard work instead. You want to do yard work?" And they looked at each other and shook their heads and went back to stealing.
resonant: Brian from The Breakfast Club: Demented and sad, but social (Overheard)
The reason I don't post is that I don't really do anything but write, eavesdrop, ask crazy questions to the kidlet, and cook. I already post the eavesdropping and the kidlet tales and the fannish writing. The nonfannish writing fails my First Test of Postability (could I see this mocked anonymously without getting my feelings hurt?). The recipes fail my Second Test of Postability (can I get the whole thing done without abandoning it because it's too damned much work?). So here we are.

I keep writing posts about the minutiae of daily life and then deleting them because who cares? Which is odd because I enjoy reading about the minutiae of other people's lives. (Well, as long as they're not too minute. Friends, family, pets, jobs, books, strange things you saw on the bus, yes. Shoe shopping, not so much. But that's just me.)

I'll compromise by putting my minutiae inside the cut, so that no one can say I'm boring them without their consent.

This way to the minutiae )

Kissing

Jan. 30th, 2006 02:50 pm
resonant: Brian from The Breakfast Club: Demented and sad, but social (Sneaky John (Liv))
Last night I had a dream that aliens forced Rodney, John, Ronon, and Teyla to -- well, essentially to play kissing games. It was very detailed -- first Teyla kissed each of the guys (and kissed each one differently, as she would, of course), and then Ronon kissed everybody (including Teyla again, and of course it was different because it was their second kiss rather than their first), and then etc. etc. Rodney went last.

I'd save that for a story, except, you know, what's the story? Comparative kissing, awws all around, the end. Maybe I could pass it on to [livejournal.com profile] cesperanza for a weapons-and-road-trips draft.

Oh, and on a possibly related subject, a public service announcement: Eleven hours of sleep will do amazing things for your outlook on life.

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