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I keep posting about dreams...

Last night I dreamed I was in the Amazon jungle trying to stop some kind of development. It was kind of a cross between Fern Gully and WtA. I was the only one without powers or weapons, so I decided to fake it until you make it.

Everyone else was shapechanging and summoning the forces of nature. I found out the name of the development foreman and stalked over to him in the middle of all the magical battle.

“William Thurman McDonald!” I yelled. (It’s a name from an old episode of Night Court.) “By your True Name I Summon Thee!” And he made a WTF face at me and I kicked him square in the crotch. I don’t remember if it worked or not, but I woke up thinking I had at least helped the cause a little.

BTW, I am also over at dreamwidth if anyone is over there as well.

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In Dreams (again)

It started out as one of the usual stress dreams where I'm running around and nothing is easy and everything is terrible. I had to do something at a college library, but there was no parking, so I had to park a mile away and then walk through all the halls and buildings to get there. Then, I had to go back and get something and the library was about to close and I had to run. Only now, the building was all locked up so I had to run around the whole perimeter and it was a really skeezy neighborhood so I was terrified I'd be attacked the whole time.

I don't make it back in time. The library is closed, but I see the librarian drive by and pull into the drive of a nearby house. So I go over there and her house is a heaven of books and art projects and she is super nice. We take care of whatever my task was and then she asks me to stay until my ride gets there so I don't have to walk back through the scary grounds.

She had a whole lower level of books in her house that she had rescued over the years from the library and they were all color-coded and by author. People would come by and ask for random books and she would have them.

Maybe it's just relief that my own job is over for the summer that I'm dreaming of someone else being great at their job. Maybe I just needed someone to be that nice to me for awhile. Either way, it makes me want to organize all my shelves.

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Better living through pharmaceuticals

It's been a weird day! Midol got me through the worst of it, but I'm considering upgrading to something stronger. But I did get a Last Unicorn fic over at 31_days.

So there's that.

Geek thought for the day...

Ok, some time ago, I wrote this about Lydia Deetz being worried that Beetlejuice had killed himself since he had been Juno's assistant and only suicides end up working the Neitherworld's civil service department. But then it hit me: Juno's throat was cut.

I suppose you could cut your own throat, but there's easier ways, y'all. It seems more likely that someone else did it. Maybe it was a murder/suicide and she was tangled in the red tape. Maybe she was killed and just worked the job anyway. I dunno.

No harm in looking

So I'm house sitting and the first thing I do is check the fridge and all the cabinets. I'm not hungry. I'm just nosy. It's like survival inventory. Ooh, they got sandwich meat and tortillas and a bag of salad. We could have some epic sandwich wraps!

Y'know, if we wanted. If we had to.

We don't. But I can sleep easier knowing that the container under the foil in there has leftover lasagna in it. That's how nosy I can be.

Dreams

I had a Metallica dream. I’ve been listening to Murder One a lot lately and reading Dresden File books, so my brain cooked up a weird little modern fairy tale for me.

In the dream, there was a prophecy about some silver item and something called the Fires of the Faithful. When they lined up, the earth would shake and some old Fae influence would be broken. The Fae did not want that to happen, so they had the silver thing shattered.

I was working for a human who had gathered up all those pieces. He was a bass player for a metal band. I don’t know what his beef with the Fae was, but he had found the spot where the thing they controlled was buried and set up a concert over it.

Since I was the last one to touch the broken pieces, I got tracked down by the Fae knights (or whatever they were) right before the concert starts. They were being all smug and threatening, talking to each other about mortals and their tricks and how we thought we were so clever, but what sad little insects we really were. They had already been to my house and found smelting tools and whatnot, so they knew I had melted the silver thing down.

“And what do you make of that?” one said to the other and I immediately said: “Guitar Strings!”

That was when the guy started playing Murder One with the silver guitar strings (0:46) and the vibration rattled these two to the bone. They threw me out of the way to run to stop the guy, but the crowd all raised their lighters and that was the Fire of the Faithful. One of the knights turned to stone and the other one turned to wood. The thing in the ground was some kind of huge, seven foot crystal, and the music made it rise up from the ground in the middle of the concert. It was vibrating and turning black and shooting off purple lightning and then it exploded into nothing, so you know, best concert ever?

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wallowing

I have to clean. You don't even know. I have let it get so bad. Every room in the house is a mess. Am I doing it? Nope. Here I sit, watching Bigfoot shows. I need to get the timer and set it for an hour and work in each room from now until it's time to go to bed. I also need to go fill up the car with gas since it's my turn to drive carpool this week. But first, I think I will watch this show about the haunted Portland underground.

One thing I have done! I did a Strange Magic fic for 31_days. I'm not entirely useless.

Write now

January was my month to make prompts for 31_days. I should make an effort to start doing those again. It's always fun to write even a little thing, but I haven't written much since Nanowrimo. Except for the fanfic about the pipeline because I write that to keep from giving in to despair at the pipeline meetings.

So, if anybody else resolved to write more or just get their creative groove back this year, might I suggest 31_days?


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Not counting the fan fiction

I should've known that things weren't going too well for me when I stopped reading and drawing and other things that used to be all I wanted to do. I blamed it on stress and the classes and the job, but it didn't get any better when those things changed. Now the job is worse, the classes are over for now, and the stress is the new normal, but I was determined to take back my own interests. So, I did make it through the 50 books this year. My To-Be Read pile is pretty big thanks to the two year backlog of barely reading, but I'm working on it.

50 Books of 2016Collapse )

This year dies tonight, and I can't be anything but relieved. The dread/hope of what the coming year will be can start tomorrow.

Random Memory Time

So, I'm watching last season of Join or Die with Craig Ferguson and it's the episode about cult leaders. Craig said something about the problems that arise from people being so certain that they were right and everyone else was wrong. I think it was the word certainty that got my attention because that's what I remember praying for when I was a teenager. That was the word I used.

I remember being scared and worried and not knowing what to do. I was very smugly told by several people that I should pray about it, and teenage me did. I prayed to be made certain of what I should do and what I should believe. I needed a sign, just something to convince me that I was on the right track and that I didn't have to be so afraid.

I never got one, but I did get older and saw more things and met more people and it started to occur to me that the people who had been so sure of themselves when I was younger were definitely afraid of something. They wouldn't look at certain things, or talk about them, or even acknowledge that such things existed somewhere in the world. This time, I was more-severely-than-smugly told that they would pray for me.

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