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thedarksiren2It's just beautiful outside! All sunny and wonderful. I had amazing dreams of accomplishment and clarity, things revealed to me for my eyes only *gigglz* No, I don't know if they will come true - sometimes dreams seem to reveal such things to me, but I won't say for certain whether they are really clairvoyant or just coincidence. I don't really care...they are my personal video collection, and entertain me to no end.
One dream though...I think I must have been a mascot of some kind, a chicken (how effing appropriate is that LOL) and I was struggling with these other mascots. But at one point, I was in the *stands*, which were really just walls with people standing in mid-air - I was flying! I cannot remember ever flying in my dreams, and my lucid-mind remembered that and I got all tickled by it.
There was an announcer having everyone in the audience sing happy birthday to whoever had a birthday that day. I was fixing some plumes :::shakes head:: when I got a nudge. I looked up to find I had floated down to the floor, and began to blush. My friend![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
darkpixie6942 (whom I haven't seen IRL in far too long!) was tugging on my suit, telling me, "It's your turn! It's your turn!"
I told her I didn't want to, but it happened anyway. I was standing in the middle of a crowd of rasta-men with amazing dred-locks, only they had been dressed up as transvestites the night before, and forgotten to take all their make-up off. And their hair grew back very quickly - it was odd, seeing them sitting there, smoking up and and nodding to their silent rhythms.
"You go on, girl," they told me with Jamaican accents.
A spotlight shone down on me, and they sang happy birthday to me.
I was given roses, and began to wave like I was the winner of some beauty contest. I began laughing because I was a bit lucid, and knew how ridiculous it all was, but it was fun, so why not?
I walked like a diva, shaking my butt like a supermodel, just eating it all up. I went up the stairs to the MC, and he hugged me, kissing me on the cheek. It was the ringmaster guy from Moulan Rouge, and he patted me on the back all dainty-like. I was actually crying, but they were tears of laughter, not simply because girls cry at moments like this. It was hilarious!
He said, "Yes yes now, WAKE UP!"
The doorbell was ringing downstairs.
Bloody hayel .
Bathrobe, slippers, man I gotta shave my legs soon...something about not having anyone to impress, then a smirk because that was really negative and wow, it's sunny outside...photo-time. Hmm...
one step, two step...yadda yadda yadda
Unlock..."I'm sorry to have bothered you miss, but..."
I was blind, and rubbed my eyes to find that i had a horrible mass of make-up on my hand. smirking again.
"...church..."
I look up - the guy's got candy, a whole box of it like the ones who pander over on 25th and Lorain, just outside the banks and China Town.
Look up, stifling the giggles at the thougt that maybe I have make-up down to my chin, and how awful I must look - I am the poster child for white-trash this morning. Which then reminds me of a childhood memory where my father answered the door in his boxers with a beer (we won't mention the gut!LOL) and a shotgun, only to scare the crap out of some Jehova's Witnesses who'd been coming to our door non-stop for nearly two years. He was always polite until that day...he always told him we were not interested, that we had our own "faith."
But they never listened...until that morning.
He answered the door, "What the fuck do you want?"
They pretty much just stood there, mouths open and ready to say something, but they were completely stifled. All of us kids were hiding just inside the door, covering our mouths so as not to laugh and give away the fact that our father was total BS.
I looked at the guy this morning, and told him, "Go away please," and shut the door.
wraptboy said I shoulda brought him in to kill him.
Yeah...he might've made a good breakfast, and then lookie! Candy for dessert!!! YAY!!!
One dream though...I think I must have been a mascot of some kind, a chicken (how effing appropriate is that LOL) and I was struggling with these other mascots. But at one point, I was in the *stands*, which were really just walls with people standing in mid-air - I was flying! I cannot remember ever flying in my dreams, and my lucid-mind remembered that and I got all tickled by it.
There was an announcer having everyone in the audience sing happy birthday to whoever had a birthday that day. I was fixing some plumes :::shakes head:: when I got a nudge. I looked up to find I had floated down to the floor, and began to blush. My friend
darkpixie6942 (whom I haven't seen IRL in far too long!) was tugging on my suit, telling me, "It's your turn! It's your turn!" I told her I didn't want to, but it happened anyway. I was standing in the middle of a crowd of rasta-men with amazing dred-locks, only they had been dressed up as transvestites the night before, and forgotten to take all their make-up off. And their hair grew back very quickly - it was odd, seeing them sitting there, smoking up and and nodding to their silent rhythms.
"You go on, girl," they told me with Jamaican accents.
A spotlight shone down on me, and they sang happy birthday to me.
I was given roses, and began to wave like I was the winner of some beauty contest. I began laughing because I was a bit lucid, and knew how ridiculous it all was, but it was fun, so why not?
I walked like a diva, shaking my butt like a supermodel, just eating it all up. I went up the stairs to the MC, and he hugged me, kissing me on the cheek. It was the ringmaster guy from Moulan Rouge, and he patted me on the back all dainty-like. I was actually crying, but they were tears of laughter, not simply because girls cry at moments like this. It was hilarious!
He said, "Yes yes now, WAKE UP!"
The doorbell was ringing downstairs.
Bloody hayel .
Bathrobe, slippers, man I gotta shave my legs soon...something about not having anyone to impress, then a smirk because that was really negative and wow, it's sunny outside...photo-time. Hmm...
one step, two step...yadda yadda yadda
Unlock..."I'm sorry to have bothered you miss, but..."
I was blind, and rubbed my eyes to find that i had a horrible mass of make-up on my hand. smirking again.
"...church..."
I look up - the guy's got candy, a whole box of it like the ones who pander over on 25th and Lorain, just outside the banks and China Town.
Look up, stifling the giggles at the thougt that maybe I have make-up down to my chin, and how awful I must look - I am the poster child for white-trash this morning. Which then reminds me of a childhood memory where my father answered the door in his boxers with a beer (we won't mention the gut!LOL) and a shotgun, only to scare the crap out of some Jehova's Witnesses who'd been coming to our door non-stop for nearly two years. He was always polite until that day...he always told him we were not interested, that we had our own "faith."
But they never listened...until that morning.
He answered the door, "What the fuck do you want?"
They pretty much just stood there, mouths open and ready to say something, but they were completely stifled. All of us kids were hiding just inside the door, covering our mouths so as not to laugh and give away the fact that our father was total BS.
I looked at the guy this morning, and told him, "Go away please," and shut the door.
wraptboy said I shoulda brought him in to kill him.Yeah...he might've made a good breakfast, and then lookie! Candy for dessert!!! YAY!!!
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no subject
Be smiley, be happy, and we really need to get together IRL... I have a brightly colored package for you!
(and don't eat door-to-door zealots... they get caught in your teeth and cause bloating)
moo
no subject
Date: 2003-01-08 06:56 pm (UTC)You don't know where they've been.
Anyway, what if you actually ARE what you eat?
*shudder*
no subject
Date: 2003-01-08 07:06 pm (UTC)Somtimes they had big meetings there, on Thursdays which I guess means something to them. After the meeting, they'd separate around the nearby streets, knocking on doors.
But they always skipped my house.
Sometimes, if Mom or Mike or I happened to be out on the front lawn, they might come talk to us, hand off a pamphlet (Mom was polite and would take the pamphlet. So would I. Mike, my brother, kept asking why, if only a certain number of people could get into heaven did they want to recruit more competition? What if he turned out to be better than them and knocked them off the list?)
But usually, they just skipped our house entirely.
Because of my dad.
But he had no gun.
He had no beer.
He didn't yell.
He was never rude.
All he ever did was step outside and encourage them in joining him in a religious debate.
My dad LOVED religious debates.
What's more, he's studied every widely known religion (including feminism, which after taking a look through his copy of the feminst Bible, I have to agree is its own religion) and usually knows more about them than the person he's debating with.
And he'd keep going for as long as the other person lasted.
Funny how they stopped dropping by our home.