superbadgirl: (Default)
Me. Johnny Depp. Shower.

To say I was sorely disappointed to have the alarm pull me out of that dream scenario this morning would be something of an understatement.
superbadgirl: (dean rough)
I think I had my computer on for all of ten minutes yesterday. I think we needed a break from each other.

Woke up yesterday with a zit the size of a dime on my jawline. Oh, a dime is small, you say? Slap one on your face and see how small it is. The size alone wouldn't be so bad, but it HURTS. Wahhh.

Strange dreams again:
Dream One )

Shoot, in typing out Dream One I have completely lost Dream Two. I remember it was really weird. Oh. I remember )

Yeah, I don't know what that was about, either.
superbadgirl: (recurring dream psych)
The baby in my dream wasn’t mine this time. Castiel was there. Yes, that Castiel. For those who don't know to whom I am referring, the vessel Oh Angelic One is leasing is a schlumpily dressed guy in a khaki trench, with rumpled dark hair - some equate him to a tax accountant*. He had the baby in what looked like an old church - crumbling walls, ivy, the works. He kidnapped me to make me take care of her. I complied, knowing if he wanted to he could make my eyeballs burn away. The baby’s name was Annabelle, and she was two months old. She told me she was all stopped up (apparently dream babies can talk), and I couldn’t figure out what to do about that. Castiel, ever resourceful, had a cure. He brought out a 64-pack of Crayolas and took out only the red one. I cupped my hands, which were suddenly filled with boiling water (it didn’t hurt). He grated the red crayon into my hands, where it dissolved. He told me to make Annabelle drink the crayon-water.


*Honestly, though, Castiel reminds me more of those Mormon boys who wander around and try to whammy you into their faith with their white shirts, dark ties and uber-polite "Yes, sirs" and "No, ma'ams."
superbadgirl: (dino music)
They feel bad in the way someone with bum knees feels when she smacks one of said knees against the edge of a metal filing cabinet. Which I just did, and it brought tears. TEARS! That's how awful these songs feel.

1) Winter is here again, O Lord. [livejournal.com profile] el1ie guessed Journey as the artist, but not the song. I'll put it out of its misery. Wheel in the Sky.
2) I want to see you smile again, like diamonds in the dust.
3) We was walking through the park, trying to get home before too dark.
4) Feel sick after every meal.
5) People I know, places I go, make me feel tongue-tied. [livejournal.com profile] el1ie correctly guessed the song as Here is Where the Story Ends by The Sundays.
6) Hearts cannot be broken, they're small, squishy things.
7) I would like just one glass of water. [livejournal.com profile] el1ie got the song title here, One Glass of Water by Band of Bees.
8) He led you to this hiding place.
9) In the middle of the summer, I'm not sleeping.
10) Jesus the Mexican boy, born in a truck on the fourth of July. [livejournal.com profile] el1ie also sussed the title of this one as Jesus the Mexican Boy by Iron and Wine.

SPN fans should really get #1, and the song title is in both #7 and #10. Feel free to Google or use whatever search engine you prefer.


It's amazing how super busy I am, yet can find the time to post here.

Last night, I dreamed I had a roommate obsessed with not leaving furniture marks on the carpet, so we had to rearrange the furniture every other day. At the very least, she'd demand I move the sofa three inches one way or another. It was stressful. I woke up in a cold sweat.
superbadgirl: (recurring dream psych)
He never told me he was Joe Hardy, I simply knew he was.

The dream began with he and me in a car, driving through my hometown. I didn't know how I'd gotten there, but was comfortable. I realized quickly I must have traveled back in time, though I didn't know how far. The highway running straight through town was only being constructed then, and buildings I recognized and wouldn't have been there yet were being demolished. There went Running's. There was the Dairy King. Oh, the A&W. Everything passed by me as if I were dreaming, but Joe was there keeping me grounded. He seemed to really care for me, so I went along where he was going.

He kept handing me skinny little cigarettes. I didn't think I smoked, but every time he gave me one I took it. There were airplanes flying overhead. Big, industrial planes which looked more like semi trucks. I was confused, because my hometown has only 5,000 people; our airport is a tiny landing strip. Joe laughed and told me someday I would remember everything. We drove, and two miles out of town there was suddenly a very large city. The sky was clear and blue. The planes made sense, then.

We drove up to a large mansion. I was uncomfortable now, but not with Joe. Just with everything around me. We went inside and all of his friends were there. Not his book-character friends. These were rich people. It was Joe's house, I realized. They sat around talking about things I didn't understand, while I kept smoking the skinny cigarettes.

After awhile I got up and went to the restroom. There was a huge shower. I stripped and got in. There were side jets that felt really, really good. Suddenly Joe was in there with me. We ... danced and made out a little, but didn't have sex though I think we both wanted to. It was too cliché. He'd only come to bring me out. We got dressed, and he looked like he was in pain, all hunched over.

"My friends are mad you put the English tea tables outside where the weather could damage them," he said.

"I'm sorry," I said. I didn't remember doing anything to the tables.

"You have to leave. I won't get my inheritance unless you do."

I nodded. Joe didn't seem too worried. He walked me out. Somehow his driveway was a boardwalk, next to the ocean. We were holding hands, but I slipped out of his grasp and fell in the water. When I pulled myself out I was naked again. Joe laughed and told me not to worry. I huddled next to a storefront while he went in to buy me a T-shirt. It had green sparkly frogs on it and was very long.

"I don't care about my inheritance," he said, taking my hand again.

I was happy, but still confused.

~~

Apparently this means Joe Hardy is my dream man. Very odd, because I really think Frank would be more to my taste.
superbadgirl: (recurring dream psych)
Something tells me I dreaded coming to work today. Namely, my weird dream. The images are very vivid in my head, though the "plot" is somewhat sketchy.

I know I started out on a bus, and I was bleeding profusely. It seemed clear that torture had been involved, but I had no memory of the actual events. There were three others with me, one other victim who looked like Fred Savage, and two torturer/kidnappers. Oh, and the driver, though I never saw that person, only assumed he or she was there. One of the torturers looked like Colin Firth, which I found very chilling. He mumbled a lot, and spoke too quickly for me to understand. Didn't matter. He was terrifying. The other bad person was a woman with blonde hair. She looked familiar, but I didn't know her. She was, in contrast to Colin Firth, overly expressive and insane.

Everything was blue, which I think meant it was night. One second Fred Savage and I were being threatened on the bus, and the next we were in the woods. There was snow on the ground. I wore a short skirt and had bare feet. Blood everywhere. Panic and running.

Then we were back on the bus, driving and driving. The road was windy. I couldn't see outside, it was too blue, but I got the impression we were in the mountains. There were lots of other cars on the road, but none of them saw what trouble Fred Savage and I were in. No matter how I pounded on the windows, leaving bloody handprints, I was not seen. The female bad person made me do the "bear paw" I used to make when I was a kid, by curling my hand into a fist and pressing it, palm side down, into a frosted window. Only now it was, you know, blood.

Flash back to when Fred Savage and I were captured. It was at my grandmother's house. I recognized the carpet which always reminded me of grey oatmeal, and also the wallpaper along the stairs. When I was little, I pretended it was a jungle, because it was black with lots of green and white. As an adult, I realized the jungle was actually a lily print. Fred Savage and I were eating dinner when someone came to the door. We let them in. They kidnapped and tortured us, but only after a cup of tea.

Back to the bus. Most of the blood was on my legs, I think. I couldn't stop looking at it. Colin Firth stood above me, menacing mostly because he was so expressionless. He scared me more than the woman, because she was supposed to be scary. Behind the bus now was a bright red Toyota Yaris. It honked at us, and waved us over. Surprisingly, the bus pulled over to the shoulder. Fred Savage and I tried to get out, but the unseen driver wouldn't release the door.

The driver of the vehicle got out. She wore a pink Chanel suit. It was a hostage negotiator. It was Joan Rivers.

The next thing I knew, I was stumbling along a wooded road that looked country but was actually in the suburbs. Joan Rivers drove alongside me, trying to get me into the car. I refused. I'd had enough torture.


Please, someone tell me your dream was worse.
superbadgirl: (Default)
I am the only employee here on the top two floors of the mansion. There are three downstairs, and that's it. P came in this morning, but the first words out of her mouth to me were "I don't feel well." I flat out asked her why the heck she even came in. She left at 10:45. I still don't know why she came in. Seriously, if I feel lousy enough I know I'll never make a full day, I don't even try. It simply doesn't make sense. Even if I can get a few things done, if I feel like crap I don't do them well.

Anyway, I would have departed hours ago if I didn't have to wait for the NYC crowd to get back from Spokane so we can go grab dinner. Am trying to find the most expensive place for them to take me, because I've lost a whole free afternoon due to this schmoozing. Passive-aggressive dining. Hee hee.

All I've had for sustenance today is a cup of mocha/cocoa, a Minute Maid light lemonade and a Tootsie pop.

I don't work well on no food, plus I haven't slept well. I keep waking up at 4:24 AM and toss and turn for another two hours after that, dreaming of typically strange things. This morning, my morning dreams saw me trying to brush my teeth, which were made of broccoli. No matter how I scrubbed at them, I could not make the broccoli go away. There was also cheese sauce involved. Ick.

Due to short temper and an uncooperative mail merge I needed D's help with, I narrowly avoided a knock-down, drag-out fight with him. D is nice to an extent, but has lots of quirks that set me off on a good day (burping, gasping, hiccupping, leaning on the back of my chair while peering over my shoulder, scratching his head over my drinking glass...), so you can imagine how quickly I turned snarly on him. Heh.

In case you could not tell, I am killing time. It's far too early for dinner anyway, though they are on east coast time so they might be starving. Sadly, I still don't know where to take them! I'm SO not a dining-out person. Two things to never ask me: how to get somewhere and where to eat.
superbadgirl: (8ball)
All I can remember is being at a house party, at which all attendees were waiting around for a pony to show up. While we waited, much drunkenness ensued. Boys went downstairs to do things I cannot describe (I think dancing was involved, but it was really strange and makes me uncomfortable even now). Toward the end of the night, I looked out a picture window and saw the pony.

“Hey, there's a pony in the yard!” I said, like that wasn’t the reason for the orgy in the first place.

I ran outside, along with my younger sister R. It was the pony we were looking for, yay. We knew this, because it was brown and had a red heart tattooed on its arse. We approached it, and it turned into a big purple bug with big purple legs and big purple, fuzzy wings. It bit my sister. She convulsed and started to desiccate right before my eyes, but I didn’t panic because the pony (it was back to a pony again) was turning into a huge, oblong pumpkin. It, too, shriveled up, which was why I didn’t worry about R. I figured it was supposed to happen that way.

And then it was 5:45 and I woke up very confused.


I...don't even want to try to understand that.

I shall stop spamming LJ now. I promise.

*yawns*

Mar. 21st, 2008 12:03 pm
superbadgirl: (Default)
Apparently the Upstairs People have today off as well, because I was awoken by run, run, THUMP on repeat for about an hour, starting at 0700. Grrr. So I'm tired from that, and from an energy-sucking dream. All my dreams seem to suck energy lately.

This one involved me going for my daily walk at lunch. I walked along the same street I always do. I heard someone behind me, so I scooted over so they could pass. It was a woman with short, dark hair. She wore a green shirt. She was...me, only thinner and more smiley. I remember thinking that odd, but brushed it off and kept on walking.

I got to one intersection and decided instead of going straight, I'd go down the hill and then loop back. I started down, but noticed quickly the descent was steeper than usual. It's usually pitched at a 30-40 degree angle. This was more like 70-80, but I managed to get down just fine. Near the bottom, I discovered the street I approached wasn't a street at all. It was a rushing river. There were big rocks, and moving water spilled out over the sidewalk. I couldn't take that path after all.

I turned around to go back up the way I came. I couldn't, it was too steep. There were vines all over. I tried to clutch onto them and pull myself up, frantically thinking how I'd be so late in getting back to work. The vines kept tearing free. Instead, I tried to dig footholds into the earth. The soil was loose, and kept falling into my face. Panic swelled.

run, run, THUMP

I woke up.
superbadgirl: (recurring dream psych)
I was with a group of friends (whom I didn't recognize at ALL) and we were in a small town. First we were by a river. Then we were in the river. Then we were in a city, not the small town, heading for a movie theatre, where we watched something. I think it was in black and white. The projector was down in the theatre with us instead of up where it should be. A movie attendant noticed the projector was emitting bright light out of its back, so she came in and stuffed a gigantic wad of paper into it. This made the light go up to the ceiling instead of our eyes. We were grateful.

The movie ended, and we went to a house where we were apparently staying. It was more like a bar. The carpet was shag, pea-green colored and the bar was made of dark wood. We stayed down there for a minute before tromping up a narrow, smoky staircase at the back of the room.

Upstairs turned out to be outside, back on the street. We were at a cafe. The umbrellas for the patio tables were up, even though it was night. One of my unknown friends' phone rang. Answered it and looked confused. It was Blair Sandburg (WTF from me, and note this is a character from a TV show I was never too fanatical about despite a really cool premise). Blair wanted to know where the high school reunion was. We all laughed and remembered good times with Blair in school, even though if he were a real boy he'd be a bit older than we are.

I awoke and had this song (on last.fm, so you should be able to listen without registering) in my head. Oh-oh-oh-OHHHHHHHHH!
superbadgirl: (recurring dream psych)
It's December 18th. I have purchased exactly 2 Christmas gifts so far. I haven't thought about the other women in my department, who are always generous with me. I haven't thought about little gifts for the rest of my coworkers, beyond pondering if it's better to give nothing than a desperate idea I had to give tubes of Hot Cocoa and Green Apple Cider lip balm to everyone. Heh. Nothing yet for friends, nothing for parents, nothing for godchild.

It's just one more thing that's making me feel like I'm drowning this year.

Speaking of drowning, it's been raining all day and I am a bit worried I'll have more flooding issues in the apartment. Gah.

\\//

Dream:

I was at a summer camp or something, and there was a boy with really curly, dark brown hair following me around trying to sniff my neck. Actually he was doing a good job of that, as his face was pressed up against my neck pretty closely. It made it difficult to walk. At some point, something cold and white fell out of my left ear, and no one could figure out what it was. Dave Coulier was there, like a counselor or something. I don't know that for sure. He had a bomb strapped to him. I think I put it there, but no one could see it and so I didn't say anything about it. I apparently wanted him dead, after all.

The bomb squad came, somehow alerted that Dave Coulier was walking around telling bad jokes with an explosive device somewhere on his person. They quickly got him out of the area, and I was very, very worried that they wouldn't be able to save him. Strange, considering I put the thing on him in the first place. The dark haired boy moved away from my neck long enough to go get a glass of frozen milk. The boy tipped the glass upside down and let the milk slide out. It landed on the ground with a squelching noise. That was when I figured out the substance that came out of my ear was frozen milk. It made me shudder to think about. The boy resumed sniffing my neck, his breath hot and uncomfortable.

Then the bomb squad guys came back in, eating cookies and laughing. Everyone but the boy sniffing me asked what happened to Dave. The head bomb squad guy said, "Oh, he didn't make it. Here's his brain." and pointed to his vest, which was covered in grey and red mush.

I woke up in kind of a panic.

TGIF

Oct. 12th, 2007 10:30 am
superbadgirl: (sign)
Really, I'm so very glad this week is coming to a close; it's been filled with one stupid thing after another. It always amazes me that things can be going along swimmingly, and then suddenly a person gets hit with bad juju from so many minor angles. Sure, the shit is survivable but it just builds to the point of supreme aggravation, until every little thing is a nuisance.

Even I'm doing stupid things. Like agreeing to go on a day trip tomorrow with someone I don't even like that much as a person. I don't have any idea why I said yes, both because of the "eh" factor I feel toward this person and the fact that we're leaving at 8:30 AM. On a SATURDAY! *whimper* LOL, I'm such a slug.

So I guess the torture won't be over for me until Sunday. ;)


Also, in pretty much all of my dreams last night, people kept telling me I weighed 175 lbs after reading it on my driver's license and I kept yelling that I did not weigh 175 lbs. It was a printing error. I don't know why, but the dreams were very exhausting. Emotional turmoil, I guess. I do not weigh 175 lbs, which is a fine weight but it's not mine. ;)

How about some Magnetic Fields for the afternoon?
superbadgirl: (recurring dream psych)
Dreamscape was filled with vampires again, but the terrorizing kind instead of erotic. I was in a classroom and people kept getting nabbed by vampires. I don't know how I knew it was vampires, because what I saw was basically people getting yanked up. I tried to alert the teacher he just ignored me. One by one my classmates were pulled up through the ceiling, where the vampires must have been nesting. Some of them even shrieked, but still the teacher didn't notice. He just kept writing on the whiteboard, his back turned. My fear mounted. The vampires were getting closer. I knew I was doomed. I don't know why I didn't simply leave the room. It was like I was trapped.

The teacher finally turned around, once there was just me and a few other remaining students. I discovered why he hadn't responded. He was the friggin' boss vampire and he was HUGE. He grabbed at me and laughed and his breath was on my neck.

Then I woke up.

When I went back to sleep I dreamed I was in a winter, snowy meadow. I wasn't alone, I was with a man I knew and was very comfortable with - someone I had known for years and years. I shivered and he wrapped his arms around me and I was warm. We talked, but I can't remember about what, and then suddenly he was giving me tiny little platonic kisses that eventually turned into not-so-platonic kisses. At first it was weird, kissing this guy who was just a Really Good Friend, but then it felt right and good.

Then I woke up again.

So apparently my subconscious wanted to torture me but then felt bad about doing that and wanted to comfort me.
superbadgirl: (recurring dream psych)
Congrats, [livejournal.com profile] travellingone, you made it into my dreams last night.

You were a rising starlet with at least one powerful enemy, for they got you drunk (and/or drugged) and rigged your hotel room to make it look as though you had a major problem...just in time for some Hollywood bigwig to visit you during a junket or something. I don't remember much more than that, except you woke up on the floor in total disarray, pills scattered all around you, and when the knock came at your door, you quickly thought to grab an old black-and-white photo of your mother to set in an obvious place, for surely her beauty would distract the bigwig from noticing your state. I woke up before I found out if it worked.

The other two parts were very similar, except they involved Padalecki and Ackles. Most of the focus was on Padalecki, who also (shocker), had someone after him. He didn't fare as well - got a prop knife to the chest, which wasn't supposed to do real damage but ended up giving him a puncture an inch deep. He thought he could cover up a knife jabbing out of his chest as he walked on set, but alas. It was more difficult than the pretty boy imagined.

Sadly, I remember nothing of the horrors my subconscious might have inflicted on Ackles. I just know he was there.

The strangest thing about all of these dream sequences was that they were narrated by a man with a booming, game-show-announcer voice. Or, maybe more accurately, like one of those really old movies they'd show in school, warning kids about the dangers of sex, drugs and rock and roll.
superbadgirl: (Default)
Head still hurts, but it's much more tolerable. Still, don't feel like doing a thing and that's a damned shame because it is sunny and gorgeous out. It's a good thing I'm very unpatriotic and don't give a hoot about this holiday anyway.

I ate something yesterday that gave me hives on my arms. Or eczema or something. The nearest I can figure it was the canned pineapple, which I only keep on hand for when I don't have the chance to buy fresh fruit or, in this case, the fresh fruit I have isn't ready to eat yet. Anyway, I rubbed ointment on the worst of it before bed and it's calmed down a bit. Unfortunately I've got skin that scars easily, so the little hive/eczema bubbles have left their marks. Bah.

Woke up with shaky legs. Really, really shaky legs. It's like I ran a marathon in my sleep, and standing is actually kind of difficult to do without wobbling. I know I can't blame it on my dreams because I dreamt about water. I cannot adequately describe the strangeness of the dream, but I will just say that there are few things in the world that make me really uncomfortable. One of those things is bodies of water at any depth over 4 feet. To have a dream where I'm basically sucked down into deep water is...not pleasant.

Oh, and my tummy's upset. But I think that's because I chased down my breakfast with some Brach's Bridge Mix.


Happy Independence Day? ;)
superbadgirl: (jp)
So my dream was very odd and told me nothing.

Cut for dream weaving )

People took photos of us, which we both shied away from. Sam's a wanted man, after all, and I just hate having my picture taken. We ran.

I woke up before I could figure out what was chasing us, and wondered where my suitcase was.
superbadgirl: (recurring dream psych)
I dreamt I was in a city. I don't know which city, but I do know it wasn't downtown Minneapolis or Seattle. I was shopping with good friends I didn't recognize, at least I was until suddenly Chris Judge was there,in my space and holding a pair of shears. I swear, my nose was pressed against his chest. He picked up my hair and inspected the ends, then insisted I needed to let him trim the ends to get rid of color damage. I didn't see the harm in that, so I let him. My friends went into a store. It seemed to take CJ a long time for a simple trim, and I started to get nervous.

Finally, he finished and looked pleased. That was when my friends came back and shrieked in horror. I twisted around to look at myself in the plate glass window of the store and discovered CJ had layered - and my layered I mean hacked to pieces - the entire back of my hair, but left the sides as they were. He saw I was angry and started to run. I screamed at him that he shouldn't run with scissors, so he dropped them. They clattered to the sidewalk and broke, so I knew there was no fixing my bad haircut.

I followed CJ down a tunnel-like entrance to a building. It wasn't a stadium, but it kind of looked like it. Suddenly we were in a bingo hall, where his priest friend ran bingo night every Tuesday. It was custom to genuflect upon arrival, but I was still mad about my hair, so I refused. No one seemed to notice my rebellion. Everyone was wearing purple.

Once I won a game of bingo, I no longer cared about my hair. The little boy next to me had one of those rainbow crayon/pencils that were cool back when I was a kid. The kind with the different colored leads you could rotate. I wanted it, so I bartered with him for it. I'm not sure what I bartered with.

~~~~

Other news: Today I get to spend all morning re-transcribing minutes for last month's insurance meeting, because I labored through it once and then apparently didn't hit "save." I die. I think I'll do a bullet-points version this time, because I cannot bear to listen to the sad, sorry history of Church A and their stoopidity one more time (aside from that meeting, I've heard the recap of events SIX times already.) I'm not pleased with myself for screwing up and not saving. Who does that? Argh.

Then, I get to spend the afternoon in an architecture meeting, which you'd think would be a mite more interesting than insurance. It's not. It's hell on earth, man.

SBG's Rib

Mar. 9th, 2007 08:38 am
superbadgirl: (recurring dream psych)
Tossin' and turnin' again.

Lengthy Dreamscape Tale )

Yeah. So. That was kind of odd, right?

What?

Mar. 8th, 2007 08:50 am
superbadgirl: (recurring dream psych)
I dreamt I was in church last night. As if that wasn't weird enough, every single hymn we sang was about a serial killer. The processional song, for example, was merely one verse of Sufjan Stevens' song about John Wayne Gacy, Jr. The choir director, for some reason, called out instructions to the whole congregation first, as if we were bona fide singers. Leona "Screech" R. and Dick "Couldn't Sing Way Out of Paper Sack" I. from my old church when I was a kid were both in this dream, murdering (pun intended) Sufjan's lovely if disturbing song.

The strangest part about it was that no one else seemed to notice that they were singing about awful things.If anything, when the ushers came around to collect pledges, I'd say the baskets were fuller than usual
superbadgirl: (recurring dream psych)
Last night I dreamt I was a vampire. It was...highly erotic. I won't detail it.

Later, I dreamt I was on the roof with a bunch of other people. It was windy enough to blow things around. For some reason the building's garbage bin (big, metal, rolling and green) was up there, and it rolled around crazily. I was amused at first, but then it started aiming for people to run them down. I knew it was my job to protect everyone else, so I kept attempting to stop it. I was pretty good at it, until it clipped me on my Achille's heel, cut me. I sat down hard and watched myself bleed. It didn't look too bad at first. Someone came over to give me a hand up. That's when we noticed I was losing blood rapidly. There was a huge puddle of it underneath my foot and I felt woozy.

I'm pretty sure more happened after that, and at least one more dream. I can't remember any of it. My stomach kind of hurts.

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