(no subject)
Oct. 16th, 2013 09:27 amDon't remember my dreams last night except for one very short snippet where I was in a room full of people who were celebrating some sports thing and I had no idea what sport it was they were celebrating and they all got very annoyed at me and wouldn't tell me, forcing me to guess. (Probably mirrors my everyday life in the fall, when I have no idea what team the school I work at is playing, and no clue if it's here or away. I should keep an eye on the here/away thing, because it determines what restaurants we can eat at and what streets we can drive down on game day.)
Also, we went to Red Lobster and I had crab legs and a baked potato because sometimes you need a well-balanced meal full of nutrients and sometimes you just need a butter delivery mechanism.
Also, we went to Red Lobster and I had crab legs and a baked potato because sometimes you need a well-balanced meal full of nutrients and sometimes you just need a butter delivery mechanism.
Dreams of gaming
Apr. 22nd, 2013 09:10 amRemember quite a lot of my dreams from this morning, mostly because Sora was demanding attention and kept climbing on me, so I kept staying at the outermost fringes of sleep instead of falling deep and coming back out. (Fun fact: you actually dream during almost every stage of sleep, not just REM, scientists are finding. Citation: a book I read a few months back which I am too lazy sleepy to be arsed to fire up the Kindle and get the name of.)
And I'm not cutting it, so you are forced to scroll past it if you don't care about other people's dreams! Hahahaha!
I'm not going to bother recounting most of it, as what I remember is really fragmented, but the bit that really stuck in my mind, possibly because I recounted it *in the dream* to someone else, was that as I was sitting down beside the side of a road in a store (hey, dream logic), a guy sits down next to me. He grabs the tag on the side of the hood of the grey hoodie I am wearing and says "Hey! Are you bood?" I say "huh?" He says, " bood! Is bood your gamertag?" I say no, I am Telophase. He insists that I am bood and that I should just admit it. Seeing that he wasn't going to leave this alone, I just lied and admitted I was bood. At this point, the dream went on elsewhere (involving coworkers and canoeing down flooded streets and such). I then recounted the bood part of the dream to someone else, as if it had happened. I also looked at the tag on my hoodie, and while it didn't say "bood," the font was such that you could read it as "bood."
I told this other person that the gamer asked my favorite games, and I said "I play a lot of CoD and WoW." He asked what I thought of Mass Effect 3, and I said that I didn't like it very much, that I thought the ending sucked, channeling Toby at this point, as I'd heard him rant enough about the ending that I could appropriate it for myself. He said that was odd, because he'd seen me (the gamertag 'bood') lots of times on ME3. I then borrowed from a friend of ours, Damon, who is not just a gamer but a GAMER and told the guy that when I said I gamed it was on a whole different scale than when he gamed (insinuating that his "played quite a lot" was my "play occasionally").
There seems to be a small theme of people not believing me when I tell them something: at a previous point in the dream, I met a father and his two young boys, and he was trying to remember the name of Darkwing Duck. Seeing me as someone who obviously knew something about cartoons, he kept describing Darkwing Duck to me, but wouldn't believe me when I told him it was Darkwing Duck. I eventually told him "Look, you are remembering one of three things: Darkwing Duck, his evil opposite Negaduck, or his secret identity Drake Mallard." And then the dream went elsewhere, something involving a backpack with my clothes and an external computer battery with a light on it.
I am amazed that Darkwing Duck apparently impacted my mid-20s enough that I can remember all that in the middle of a dream.
And I'm not cutting it, so you are forced to scroll past it if you don't care about other people's dreams! Hahahaha!
I'm not going to bother recounting most of it, as what I remember is really fragmented, but the bit that really stuck in my mind, possibly because I recounted it *in the dream* to someone else, was that as I was sitting down beside the side of a road in a store (hey, dream logic), a guy sits down next to me. He grabs the tag on the side of the hood of the grey hoodie I am wearing and says "Hey! Are you bood?" I say "huh?" He says, " bood! Is bood your gamertag?" I say no, I am Telophase. He insists that I am bood and that I should just admit it. Seeing that he wasn't going to leave this alone, I just lied and admitted I was bood. At this point, the dream went on elsewhere (involving coworkers and canoeing down flooded streets and such). I then recounted the bood part of the dream to someone else, as if it had happened. I also looked at the tag on my hoodie, and while it didn't say "bood," the font was such that you could read it as "bood."
I told this other person that the gamer asked my favorite games, and I said "I play a lot of CoD and WoW." He asked what I thought of Mass Effect 3, and I said that I didn't like it very much, that I thought the ending sucked, channeling Toby at this point, as I'd heard him rant enough about the ending that I could appropriate it for myself. He said that was odd, because he'd seen me (the gamertag 'bood') lots of times on ME3. I then borrowed from a friend of ours, Damon, who is not just a gamer but a GAMER and told the guy that when I said I gamed it was on a whole different scale than when he gamed (insinuating that his "played quite a lot" was my "play occasionally").
There seems to be a small theme of people not believing me when I tell them something: at a previous point in the dream, I met a father and his two young boys, and he was trying to remember the name of Darkwing Duck. Seeing me as someone who obviously knew something about cartoons, he kept describing Darkwing Duck to me, but wouldn't believe me when I told him it was Darkwing Duck. I eventually told him "Look, you are remembering one of three things: Darkwing Duck, his evil opposite Negaduck, or his secret identity Drake Mallard." And then the dream went elsewhere, something involving a backpack with my clothes and an external computer battery with a light on it.
I am amazed that Darkwing Duck apparently impacted my mid-20s enough that I can remember all that in the middle of a dream.
Brits ahoy
Mar. 7th, 2013 11:15 amI had a dream last night, part of which involved me filling in an application form for a British librarian society. Only it was sort of a joke society meant for non-Brits, and part of it involved filling out five reasons explaining why you are actually a British librarian, despite your nationality.
Seeing as it was a dream, the form also insisted you fill it out in pencil, and my pencil wasn't very good, plus I kept writing in unreadable handwriting, so had lots of scratch-outs and erasures where I tried to make words clearer.
The first two reasons I put down to show that I'm actually British were (1) I drank tea instead of coffee, and (2) I never washed my tea mug. In real life, I do wash out my tea mug, although I've been given to understand that not washing it is actually a Thing and the buildup on the inside lends flavor to the tea. I am willing to take this on faith, as I am not willing to not wash out my mug as I have seen the things that can grow inside my unwashed mugs.
The fifth reason I wrote down was that I ate fish and chips, that they tasted better eaten out of newspaper, and that it was a damn shame you couldn't do that any more.
I do not remember what reasons 3 and 4 were. Toby suggested that one of them was spelling with extra Us and spelling the colo(u)r as "grey."
Any suggestions?
Seeing as it was a dream, the form also insisted you fill it out in pencil, and my pencil wasn't very good, plus I kept writing in unreadable handwriting, so had lots of scratch-outs and erasures where I tried to make words clearer.
The first two reasons I put down to show that I'm actually British were (1) I drank tea instead of coffee, and (2) I never washed my tea mug. In real life, I do wash out my tea mug, although I've been given to understand that not washing it is actually a Thing and the buildup on the inside lends flavor to the tea. I am willing to take this on faith, as I am not willing to not wash out my mug as I have seen the things that can grow inside my unwashed mugs.
The fifth reason I wrote down was that I ate fish and chips, that they tasted better eaten out of newspaper, and that it was a damn shame you couldn't do that any more.
I do not remember what reasons 3 and 4 were. Toby suggested that one of them was spelling with extra Us and spelling the colo(u)r as "grey."
Any suggestions?
(no subject)
Jan. 28th, 2013 10:10 amDude, I had an awesome dream last night. Involving James Bond. Sort of.
Anyway, in my dream I was a female, gay, cross-dressing James Bond. Nobody knew I was a woman except for my (male) tailor--because you can't fool a good tailor--and the tailor's hot female assistant (because you need Bond Girls, apparently). I owned two suits, one a most excellent, perfectly tailored, expensive black suit, and another one. For the other suit, I told the tailor to give me the worst suit he had and the worst tie he had and to tailor the suit so it looked badly tailored but was in fact tailored to allow me to do lots of martial arts and such.
The reason I, James Bond, needed this suit was because I was undercover. The Joker was running a casino in a high-rise building, and of course it being the Joker, nefarious doings were happening. I managed to obtain a job as a high-ranking security person there to infiltrate the establishment and Do Stuff. Alas, my dream was far more concerned about the suits than the plot, so I cannot tell you what was going on there.
In addition to the tailor's assistant, I also had a hot female assistant because you can't have a Bond without at least two Bond Girls, apparently. At the end I met her in a cafe in the high-rise next to the Joker's casino, at which point she inexplicably changed into Toby, which didn't faze me one bit, and I explained to her/Toby how to get out of the situation as Stuff Was About to Go Down. I was in my good suit now and gave her/Toby the awful one, and told her/him to take it to this one pawn shop and pawn in. She/he would receive a large triangular token*, which s/he was to bring to the tailor, who would redeem it for cash, which s/he was then to use to get the hell out of Dodge.
Aaaand then I woke up. Too bad it didn't last longer!
So there you go. My chance at being a glamorous international spy and my subconscious worries about the clothes more than anything else. Well, I suppose it also worries about getting innocents out of the line of fire, way more than Bond typically does.
I quickly emailed myself notes on this dream as I knew I'd forget them if I went straight back to sleep, and I went into a dream where I'd accidentally sent the notes I'd made to the magazine The Economist instead of to myself, and they thought it was amusing and posted it on their website and people were making comments on it. I woke up enough to realize (and be relieved) that I couldn't possibly have done that for real because I don't have The Economist's email address in my contacts.
( Cut for adding a bit more )
Anyway, in my dream I was a female, gay, cross-dressing James Bond. Nobody knew I was a woman except for my (male) tailor--because you can't fool a good tailor--and the tailor's hot female assistant (because you need Bond Girls, apparently). I owned two suits, one a most excellent, perfectly tailored, expensive black suit, and another one. For the other suit, I told the tailor to give me the worst suit he had and the worst tie he had and to tailor the suit so it looked badly tailored but was in fact tailored to allow me to do lots of martial arts and such.
The reason I, James Bond, needed this suit was because I was undercover. The Joker was running a casino in a high-rise building, and of course it being the Joker, nefarious doings were happening. I managed to obtain a job as a high-ranking security person there to infiltrate the establishment and Do Stuff. Alas, my dream was far more concerned about the suits than the plot, so I cannot tell you what was going on there.
In addition to the tailor's assistant, I also had a hot female assistant because you can't have a Bond without at least two Bond Girls, apparently. At the end I met her in a cafe in the high-rise next to the Joker's casino, at which point she inexplicably changed into Toby, which didn't faze me one bit, and I explained to her/Toby how to get out of the situation as Stuff Was About to Go Down. I was in my good suit now and gave her/Toby the awful one, and told her/him to take it to this one pawn shop and pawn in. She/he would receive a large triangular token*, which s/he was to bring to the tailor, who would redeem it for cash, which s/he was then to use to get the hell out of Dodge.
Aaaand then I woke up. Too bad it didn't last longer!
So there you go. My chance at being a glamorous international spy and my subconscious worries about the clothes more than anything else. Well, I suppose it also worries about getting innocents out of the line of fire, way more than Bond typically does.
I quickly emailed myself notes on this dream as I knew I'd forget them if I went straight back to sleep, and I went into a dream where I'd accidentally sent the notes I'd made to the magazine The Economist instead of to myself, and they thought it was amusing and posted it on their website and people were making comments on it. I woke up enough to realize (and be relieved) that I couldn't possibly have done that for real because I don't have The Economist's email address in my contacts.
( Cut for adding a bit more )
Links, writing, dreams
May. 23rd, 2012 09:24 amRetronaut posts vintage photos of smiling Victorians. Part 2. (Although to be pedantic, many of these are smiling Edwardians.)
And to change the subject...you know, I'm not sure I could be one of those id writers, the kind that regurgitates the contents of their id onto the paper and sometimes ends up selling millions *coughAnneBishopcough*. Every so often I have dreams that I wake up from going "Man, that would make a good book," and as I wake up more I realize that I'd probably be embarassed to write that up and have people going "You wrote that? You wrote that?" And they're not anywhere near as ridonkulous as others *coughAnneBishopcough*.
Case in point, ( last night's dream... )
And to change the subject...you know, I'm not sure I could be one of those id writers, the kind that regurgitates the contents of their id onto the paper and sometimes ends up selling millions *coughAnneBishopcough*. Every so often I have dreams that I wake up from going "Man, that would make a good book," and as I wake up more I realize that I'd probably be embarassed to write that up and have people going "You wrote that? You wrote that?" And they're not anywhere near as ridonkulous as others *coughAnneBishopcough*.
Case in point, ( last night's dream... )
Last night I dreamed that I was part of a group that was creating a musical making gentle fun of RPGs. During the dream, I wrote several verses of various songs to be sung by stock characters, the innkeeper, the barmaid, the fighter, etc.
I was so disappointed when I woke up that I didn't remember any of the lyrics. :(
I was so disappointed when I woke up that I didn't remember any of the lyrics. :(
(no subject)
Aug. 18th, 2011 09:04 amAnother odd dream last night -- I and three friends (not people I know in real life, in fact they looked like they came out of a Final Fantasy game) were frantically trying to sew something. We were in a room that was, at the same time, sort of like a residential lot. And the area was beginning to flood, threatening all the electronic equipment and stuff that was sitting about this room and others. But we had to finish sewing this thing, which turned out to be more of a corset/bodice thing. And then I had an idea - it looks like we could finish sewing it by hand, instead of machine, and thus could take turns sewing as the others spent the time throwing the stuff threatened by the flood onto items of furniture that would be standing out of the waters. So we went from room to room doing that. And in one room, one of the friends grabbed some sort of electronic doodad and started playing music on it.
I woke up at this point, and realized that (a) the friend looked like a chibi Sephiroth and (b) he was playing John Mellancamp's "Pink Houses."
I woke up at this point, and realized that (a) the friend looked like a chibi Sephiroth and (b) he was playing John Mellancamp's "Pink Houses."
Last night I had a dream in which I had a big building with three rooms in it, all full of Star Wars costumes and toy lightsabers, blasters, etc. All of my friends were there*. I was telling them that we got to play with everything, and that the rules were you could not hit anyone on the head, not on the face, not on the back of the head, not at all, and that you couldn't hit anyone in the neck, not on the throat, not on the sides, not in the back.
After that we all dressed up and started shooting each other, etc. It was fun - everyone was overacting and hamming it up. I remember having a toy lightsaber that was the kind that was just a flashlight, and I play-fought against two opponents who had Darth Maul-type toy lightsabers with plastic bits for the laser bit. I lost, but I put up a good fight. :)
After that, I found a big bazooka-type thing that shot foam missiles, but I woke up around that point.
*shoots you all with foam missiles*
* Not that I recognized any of them, but I knew that all my friends were there, so I expect you were, too.
After that we all dressed up and started shooting each other, etc. It was fun - everyone was overacting and hamming it up. I remember having a toy lightsaber that was the kind that was just a flashlight, and I play-fought against two opponents who had Darth Maul-type toy lightsabers with plastic bits for the laser bit. I lost, but I put up a good fight. :)
After that, I found a big bazooka-type thing that shot foam missiles, but I woke up around that point.
*shoots you all with foam missiles*
* Not that I recognized any of them, but I knew that all my friends were there, so I expect you were, too.
Last night I dreamed I was taking a GRE prep course that ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rachelmanija was teaching. I'd missed the first couple of classes, and at the wrap-up, when she told the class "Don't forget E.K.G. and [three other initials I forgot]!!" I raised my hand, explained I missed the first lessons and would she explain, please?
She did so, and I remember that E = Education and K = the Key, but none of the others. The gist of the two acronyms was, however, that studying hard and getting an education would raise you from the lower class to the middle class. I was puzzled as to how this applied to me, seeing as how I was already middle class, and questioned the utility of the acronyms, with "This doesn't apply to me! I'm already a librarian!"* butrachelmanija got a sort of strange look on her face and didn't reply.
Then I noticed she was wearing a mic. After class, when she was no longer miked, I asked her if the company she worked for was recording her teaching, and she said yes.
After that, it went off into whatever-land, as both of us split into two copies of ourselves, and onerachelmanija went off to work, and the other one stayed with me, and the other telophase turned out to be evil. And there was something about a comic shop.
* Which doesn't have that much to do with what economic/social class you are except for affording to pay for grad school, really.
rachelmanija was teaching. I'd missed the first couple of classes, and at the wrap-up, when she told the class "Don't forget E.K.G. and [three other initials I forgot]!!" I raised my hand, explained I missed the first lessons and would she explain, please?She did so, and I remember that E = Education and K = the Key, but none of the others. The gist of the two acronyms was, however, that studying hard and getting an education would raise you from the lower class to the middle class. I was puzzled as to how this applied to me, seeing as how I was already middle class, and questioned the utility of the acronyms, with "This doesn't apply to me! I'm already a librarian!"* but
rachelmanija got a sort of strange look on her face and didn't reply. Then I noticed she was wearing a mic. After class, when she was no longer miked, I asked her if the company she worked for was recording her teaching, and she said yes.
After that, it went off into whatever-land, as both of us split into two copies of ourselves, and one
rachelmanija went off to work, and the other one stayed with me, and the other telophase turned out to be evil. And there was something about a comic shop.* Which doesn't have that much to do with what economic/social class you are except for affording to pay for grad school, really.