Very In-Character Dreams

Because I stayed up so late last night, I am now exhausted and am going to sign off as soon as I record these two dreams, because they’re both really funny, for how in-character everybody was in them.

In the first one, Cortney’s brother Matt, for some reason, looked just like Tom Riddle, and I somehow (no idea how, though) knew that he was a dark wizard.  But Cortney had no idea.  She just thought he was cool because he was her brother and he was a wizard.

So later, he was going to cast some spell that I knew was going to be evil, so I cast the blocking spell on him to prevent it.  When he raised his wand, I pointed mine at him and shouted, “Finite!”  (I pronounced it, “fin-EE-tay”…and although this sounds like an actual spell, I can’t remember if it is or not, and I’m fairly certain it is not a “blocking spell”.)

Cortney stared at me.  (Her brother was glaring, but she didn’t notice that, either.)  “What spell was that?” she said.

“Finite…the blocking spell,” I said.

“That isn’t the blocking spell.”

“Yes, it is.”

“No, it isn’t.  The blocking spell is finite.”  (She pronounced it, “FIGH-night”.  Her brother sort of faded into the background as we launched into the “Argument Sketch”.)

“No; it’s fin-EE-tay,” I said.

“No, it’s FIGH-night!  All right, spell it!”

“F-i-n-i-t-e,” I said.

“That’s FIGH-night!”

“No; it’s FIGH-night in English; in Latin, it’s fin-EE-tay.”

There was a pause as Cortney contemplated this.

“Oh…so I guess that’s why it never works for me,” she finally said.

I love when Cortney and I argue over language when I’m dreaming.

The other dream took place early in the morning when I kept waking up and falling back asleep.  I could hear the sprinkler running against the outside of my house right behind my bed.  A long time ago, I had no idea what this strange sound was and used to picture hands scraping against the outside of my house.  But then we stopped running the sprinkler during hours that I slept; this was a fluke.  Perhaps that is why, hearing it again for the first time in forever, I pictured zombies.

Anyway, so I dreamed that the world was invaded by zombies, right there as I was lying in my bed.  I was lying there thinking, I wonder how long I have before they get into my house and eat me or whatever.

Then I thought, I suppose I should try and save The Mormon.

I figured that it would take me an hour to get to his house, and if I kept speeding, I could probably run over a good amount of zombies on the way and not have my car broken into.  And they were all over.  It was really, really creepy.

So I somehow made it to my car and was running down all these zombies on the way to his house, which they were also surrounding.

I called his cell phone.  Fortunately, he answered, so I was not stuck by myself out in the middle of nowhere with all of them.  Then I would have freaked.

“I am not getting out of my car,” I said, “but I have come to rescue you.  I’m waiting outside.”

So he came out, fought off a few zombies on the way, and got in.

THIS IS SO COOL!” he said.  You could tell he really meant it.  The Mormon is obsessed with zombie movies.

THIS IS NOT COOL!” I said.  “THERE IS NOTHING COOL ABOUT THIS!”

And that was pretty much the end of that one.

I just thought Cortney and The Mormon were both very much in character for just a dream.

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I SAW A UFO.

I SAW A UFO.

I was driving home from work tonight when I saw a bright white light to the left of the street.  At first I misjudged the distance from the light to myself and thought maybe one of the houses in there had some weird floodlight I’d never noticed before, or something to that effect; then I realized that the light was in the sky.

I knew the position of the light was too strange for it to be the moon, although it was about that bright, so I thought, …Airplane?

It wasn’t an airplane, though; when I was able to look more closely at it, I saw between the blue, red, and white lights that the vehicle was actually triangular.  My first thought was, “That kind of looks like an Imperial Cruiser….”  No, I’m not delusional.  I didn’t think it was an Imperial Cruiser; it just looked like one.

It was really big and really low, and seemed to just be hovering there.  Then it flew out of sight, and back into sight again, and when I turned left on the next street, the ship started flying in that direction, very slowly.  It flew across that street, and continued flying about parallel to ours.

When I turned right on our street, I could just see it over Publix, and that was my final glimpse of it.

I immediately went inside and said, “I saw a UFO.”

“Really?” Dad said.

“Yeah–it looked like an Imperial Cruiser.”

“Was it triangular?”

“Yes.  Want to see it?”

He did, so he ran to get shoes, and my mom called, “If you get abducted, try to contact home somehow!”

“It’s okay, I’ve got my cell phone,” I said, as we dashed out the door.

The craft was, of course, gone that time around.

After we returned home, I went to stand outside in the driveway and called The Mormon, who did not immediately answer, so I left him the following message:

“I saw a UFO.  And I’m not even kidding.  Call me back for details.”

So…there’s that.  I’m betting it was a stealth drone, since there is a base just a few miles away.  So that’s pretty cool!

In other news, Spidermonkey has apparently broken up with Psychobrat, who, presumably, will be returning home at any moment–she’d been planning to spend the week at his house.  I do feel kind of bad for her, despite how evil she is.

Nicole may have found someone to take the dog…finally.  We’ll see what happens with that.

Here’s something funny:  The other night, The Mormon told me he’d been flipping through stations and Seinfeld was on, so he’d stopped to watch it.

“Kramer was there, and…I think Jerry’s father?…Jerry Stiller….” he said.

“That’s George’s dad,” I said.  “Were they selling raincoats?”

“As a matter of fact, they were.”

“And they were all mothy?”

“Yeah–they opened the box, and a moth flew out.”

“I’m quite proud of the fact that I was able to get that from ‘Kramer and Jerry Stiller’.”

“I’m very impressed, babe.”

I wrote three pages of my new book today!  It’s moving right along.  And I made this for you guys:
Spensers Aesthetic

Just a little peek inside my mind!  I’m planning to hit up the used bookstore one day very soon to grab some research materials.

 

A Wake-Up Shout, a Clone, and a Mad Hitman

I went to bed early in order to get a good eight hours of sleep and get up by 9, but was unfortunately awoken two hours earlier at 7:15 by the sounds of my extremely homophobic father shouting at Brother about what going to jail really means.

“THERE ARE A LOT OF MEN IN THERE WHO HAVE BEEN SEPARATED FROM THEIR GIRLFRIENDS FOR A LONG TIME!  DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!?  TELL ME WHAT THAT MEANS!”

I am not hearing this, I thought, attempting to go back to sleep, but this, unfortunately, was not possible until about two hours later, so I ended up sleeping until about 11 anyway.

I had two dreams last night–well, this morning, really.  In the first, Cortney went home to Illinois to visit family for a bit, then came back and told me there was this guy there I just had to meet.  So I took her word for it, and she and Nicole and I went up to Illinois for about a week.

While there, we took a trip to Sam’s Club, or something similar to it, where there was this guy working whom Cortney had met and spoken to for a while.  He looked and talked exactly like The Mormon, and even had the same name.  That was why Cortney had wanted me to see him.

When she introduced me to him, he said, “This’ll sound really strange, but you look exactly like my girlfriend.”  How weird is that?  So we followed him around, and I kept trying to hold hands with him and stuff, and finally I just thought, Why don’t I?  This guy is The Mormon.

Then we were writing all the stuff we were going to purchase up on this chalkboard, because their cash registers were broken or something, and I woke up (to Dad’s yelling) trying to rub chalk off of my hands.

The next dream was after I went back to sleep; I dreamed that Michelle, Adrianna, Turtle, Peck, and I were all hitmen for…somebody.  I don’t know who.  And Turtle was also crazy–he deliberately killed the wrong guy, laughing all the while.  For some reason, that whole Christian group that we had over the summer was in the cafe again, and Turtle killed one of them.  So then whoever we worked for sent me after Turtle, but Turtle knew this and kept trying to shoot me.  (This took place in the parking garage at UNF.)  And he kept laughing maniacally–it was really freaky!

When I saw Turtle tonight, I said, “I had this dream you were trying to shoot me and kept laughing creepily.”

He said, “Is that why you looked at me funny at first?”

“That’s why,” I said.

Something else of interest, completely unrelated to dreams–remember how I was griping about the old van in the previous entry? So this guy came to the door just today offering to break it down so he could have the parts. He even had the wrecker right there. My dad wants to get pictures of us all in front of it first, since we’ve had it since the year I was born (he gets weirdly sentimentally attached to objects), but after that we’re going to call the guy and get rid of it. Cool how that works out, huh?

And that’s pretty much it on news/stories for today.

A Stressful Day with a Pleasant Ending

Brother went to court this morning, but they told him to come back at a later date.  Until then, he’s under house arrest.  They’re going to be calling here randomly every day to make sure he’s actually here, which means we have to be psychotic about answering the phone immediately when it rings.

Good old Psychobrat expressed her wish that he receive the harshest punishment they can contrive.

Everyone (except Psychobrat), obviously, is under a lot of stress.  Therefore, I didn’t get pissed off when my dad told me to move my car today.

See, we have only so much room in our driveway.  There’s the old blue van which we will never drive and never sell; it exists now solely to take up space in our driveway.  There’s my mom’s van, my dad’s car, Psychobrat’s car, and mine.  For certain reasons, namely:  1) I don’t want to get blocked in by Psychobrat’s car and not be able to go to work; 2) I’m the last one to leave every day and don’t want to block anyone else in, and 3) there simply isn’t room…I park on the street.  This is against the rules of the neighborhood Association.  My dad said today that he didn’t want to get a ticket or have a car towed, so I’d better move it into the driveway.

When I came back inside, completely calmly and rationally (it was, too, because I wasn’t pissed off at all–that was all him), I asked him if maybe he could tell Psychobrat to park her car on the road, since she’s the first one to leave every morning, and that just makes sense.

He snapped sarcastically back, “Yeah, you can’t talk to your sister, can you?”  What he meant by this, spoken in the nasty, evil tone that he used, was that all of the problems between her and me going back almost two decades are a result of my incompetence, and that she, the evil one, is completely blameless.  I know this is what he meant by it, because this is what he always means.  For some reason, my father favors my evil brat sister.

But today, I chose to play dumb, like I didn’t know he was giving me all credit for the rift.  I said, “No, I can’t.”

He said, “Yeah.  That’s part of the problem, isn’t it.”

“Yeah, it is.”

He’s just like Psychobrat.  He can never allow anyone the last word, so it gets ridiculous sometimes.

“Yeah.  That’s always been part of the problem, hasnt it.”

“Yeah, it has.”

“Yeah.  That’s always been a big part of the problem, hasn’t it.”

It was time to clarify that I was playing dumb, that I thought he was putting the blame on her.  “Yeah–nobody can talk to her,” I said casually, stalking out of the room as he chuckled, “That isn’t true,” in the same nasty voice, as though I am the only one who can’t talk to Psychobrat.

I went into my room and cried silent tears for several minutes.  I’m under stress, too, and the last thing I needed was to be reminded that he likes her better than me and always has and probably always will.

When he finally went back to work, I emerged from my room, saw Brother sitting in the living room, and started bitching at him about how it just wasn’t fair, why should he favor Psychobrat, yada yada yada, and Brother, the one who should be under more stress than anyone, calmly told me that that isn’t true (it is; even Mom has confirmed that when I flat-out asked her; but how sweet of him to try and tell me otherwise) and that it wasn’t all that bad.  I love my brother to pieces, even when he’s been totally stupid.

Then I got the story out of him.  He wore the same jeans two days in a row, and the second day (yesterday) forgot that his pocket knife was still in them from the previous afternoon.  Not wanting to be caught at school with it, he took it out and hid it under the bus seat to be retrieved after school.  Unfortunately, a few kids saw this and snitched, which led to a search of his locker.  Another knife was found in his locker, because it was part of his Boy Scouts stuff, and all of that was together in a backpack in the locker.  The marijuana pipe does not belong to him, but because he was stupid enough to allow dozens of untrustworthy people access to his locker combination, he has no idea whose it is.

Then he told me that Psychobrat has decided to leave MarioKart at Spidermonkey’s until I apologize for calling her Psychobrat.  That’s a lot of bullshit, first of all, because she was planning to leave it there anyway.  And second, why would she tell him this, not me?

But it doesn’t matter, because I’ve decided to just buy my own.  Then she can’t get it.

We had steak night at work today.  Normally this doesn’t really bother me, but as I was already in a pissy mood today, it kind of stressed me out more.  Steak night always draws larger crowds.

While I was at work, however, The Mormon left roses, black licorice, and a card for me at my front door.  Then he came over for like two hours to be with me and just make sure I was feeling better.  He’s so completely fantastic.

Jail and Jealousy

Bad news today, I’m afraid.

My totally awesome little brother whom I love was arrested after a knife and a marijuana pipe were retrieved from his locker.  He’s going to court tomorrow at 10:00.  Fun stuff, eh?  I don’t like this phase that he’s in.

Here’s something else noteworthy:  Milo is jealous of The Mormon.  How freaking great is that?  I told Michelle, Adrianna, and Dennis today, and while the girls laughed, Dennis high-fived me and said, “Way to go, Ginny, finally; it’s only been, what, two years now?”

“Five,” I corrected him.

“Even better!”

I fully intend to confront him about it.  I’ve been waiting to do it since I found out, but he has been conveniently unavailable.

I’m just trying to get caught up with all these dreams.

Last night, I dreamt that Psychobrat worked her evil, psychotic, manipulative powers on The Mormon and stole him from me–and, to add insult to injury, made him believe that I am the crazy one, so he was even a little afraid of me.  I woke up so pissed off….

When I told him about it, all I said was, “I had this horrible dream last night that Psychobrat stole you from me,” and he frowned and said, “This is already bad!”

Speaking of dreams, I promised to tell about the motorcycle one–of course, these are more for my benefit than yours, but if you enjoy reading them, by all means, do so.  But I understand if you don’t feel like wading through my subconscious and skip over these.

Anyway.  I dreamed that Peck, Turtle, Adrianna, Michelle, and I set up this booth thing on the green at UNF–an all-purpose sort of booth.  We took donations, we gave money out, we provided counseling…all services, basically.  For example:  People came by and just dropped us little donations, which, instead of looking like regular money, looked like spaghetti.  But it was supposed to be money.  One person came to us and said she wanted to just drop everything and take a trip to Paris.  We took out some strands of spaghetti and said, “Here you go, this should be enough, have fun!”

Somebody else came in and told us she was going to a premiere, so we dressed her up in a lovely prom dress and gave her a makeover and told her she was ready to go.

Another person came up and said he was looking to change his religion, and we had information on every religion for him to read through and choose one.

It was all pretty crazy, but in the dream it all made perfect sense.

So Jenna came in and said she wanted to go to Paris, and I told her we’d just sent somebody to Paris, but we’d see what we could do.

Then I told her I’d give her a ride to her house, and she got on the back of my motorcycle and we drove there, where I dropped her off.

It probably isn’t necessary to point out to anyone still reading that I don’t have a motorcycle in real life, but in the dream, this was completely beside the point.

So I dropped her off and then went to beat a level in SuperMario–but I wasn’t playing the game–I was playing.  I was in it.  And I finally beat it and a star appeared over me, and it looked just like a Mario star, until I jumped up and grabbed it, and in my hand it looked like a wet pasta star–felt like it, too.

Then in the distance, I saw another star, and thought, What is this?  It can’t give me two stars, can it?

But it did.  And then it gave me another, and another, and then it just kept giving me stars, and I was running all over, jumping up and grabbing all these pasta stars.

Then I got on the motorcycle and drove to Colorado.

I was just driving around by myself, enjoying the scenery, when I passed by another motorcycle, and this guy who was wearing a cowboy hat instead of a helmet.  He was driving along next to me for a while, until he turned off into a farm, and I followed him, because I had suddenly realized that I was lost.  (I did not, at this point, know that I was in Colorado, just that I’d started driving on one road and about a day later–yes, only a day–I was just now realizing that I was lost.)

So I asked this guy how to get back to Jacksonville, and he pointed in the direction I had already been going, anyway, and I said thanks and started driving.

About twenty minutes later, he was alongside me again, trying to get me to pull over.  Now keep in mind, I didn’t know this guy at all.  He wasn’t even played by somebody I knew in the dream.  He was just a random hot stranger.  Anyway, random hot stranger finally convinced me to pull over, and we started kissing right there on the side of the road, and I was really enjoying it, when all of a sudden I heard my cell phone ring and said, “Oh, shit!  Mormon!”

That was when I jolted awake and realized that it was not my cell phone, it was my alarm clock, and there was no strange hot cowboy biker and I hadn’t cheated on The Mormon after all.

I had another dream sometime over the past week that I felt the need to get out of my house one night and go sleep in a nice hotel room somewhere, because sleeping in hotels is fun, and I thought it would be so enjoyable and relaxing to go stay in one by myself for a night and not tell anybody where I was.  Just be completely incognito and responsibility-free all night.

Then I ended up, first of all, with a crappy room, and then having to solve a murder mystery that took place in the hotel–and I think somebody was trying to kill me, too, go figure.

I think that’s finally all the dreams from the last week.  And now I’m falling asleep, so any other actual stories I shall post sometime later.

Psychobrat, the $250 Hoop Skirt, and the Video Game

I’ve got some Psychobrat stories for you this morning.

First of all, Psychobrat, who demanded a car out of my parents, finally did get her way, of course.  And of course, she cannot afford to make the payments on it, so my parents are doing that for her.

But Psychobrat, who cannot afford her $150 car payments, also demanded a $250 prom dress from my parents, and got that, as well.  $250 she doesn’t have on a dress she will wear once.  It isn’t even attractive; it greatly resembles a hoop skirt.  (Just to show that I’m not being hypocritical here, my parents did buy me a car, but I have always made all of my own payments on it, and I used my own money to buy myself an $80 prom dress.)

So she’s been swishing around the house in her $250 hoop skirt, and I’ve been snickering behind my hand.

So there’s that.

Then there’s the matter of MarioKart.

When I got back from Cortney’s, I had this serious hankering to play MarioKart, so I went digging out our Nintendo and the few games Brother hadn’t sold and sat down to play it.  Two days later, I was about halfway to beating the game, when Psychobrat informed me that she was taking it to Spidermonkey’s house because they had nothing else to do but play this game.

I informed her that she wasn’t taking it, because I had dug it out of the spot it had been sitting in, unthought of, for the past three years, for me to play it, not her.

As everyone reading this probably knows by now, it doesn’t matter what you say to Psychobrat, because she will always have what she wants.  She walked straight into my room, took it (with plenty of assurances that it would be back that night) and left.

So yesterday, knowing perfectly well that MarioKart would stay at Spidermonkey’s for all eternity, because it now belongs to her and I can’t get to it there, I said, “So where’s MarioKart?”

This was when Psychobrat informed me that, as punishment for my being a bitch, it was still at Spidermonkey’s.

I, trying not to explode, walked into my room to call Katie, because I knew that would calm me down before I blew a fuse.  Katie wasn’t available, so I left her the following voice mail:

“Hello, how are you?  I’m just calling you to bitch, because according to PSYCHOBRAT!!!!!!, that is what I am.”  I paused here, because I was listening to Psychobrat call calmly from the other room, “Are you talking about yourself?”

“So…have a nice day,” I said, and hung up.

I love my sister.

What else has been happening lately?  I’ve spent a lot of time with The Mormon, which has been awesome, of course.  The other day he bought me a little stuffed kangaroo (that’s one of my favorite animals) just because.  How cute is that?  So I named them Stacia and Oswald (the mother and baby respectively) because those were the first two names that popped into my head.

Oh, speaking of The Mormon, I remembered another dream.  It’s kind of stupid, actually.  I dreamed I made him watch this horrible movie from the ’50s (it wasn’t real) that I realized about halfway through I had actually seen before, but we still kept watching it.  I had read this review that made it sound phenomenal, but later realized that the review was actually mine–it was here on my blog.  I had written up this whole phenomenal review of a completely detestable movie, just to see how good I could make it sound using double-talk or something.  It was so well-written, but the only thing I remember about it now is that at one point I used the phrase, “lovably loathsome” to describe a character.

All I really remember about the dream-movie is that it seemed to be about some stupid cop and a bunch of teenagers who kept getting the best of him as he chased them around town.

And I remembered, oddly, the tagline of the film, and wrote it down in the middle of the night so I wouldn’t forget:  “There’s nothing funnier than Lt. Don Chodiedrel.  Except the loads-funnier Sam don’t-remember-his-last-name.”  (The cop’s last name, despite the odd spelling, was pronounced ‘ka-DEE-drul’.)

The things my subconscious gets up to.

In other news…I feel like it’s been forever since I updated here, but that is because I am hard at work on an original novel–the first in a trilogy, in fact.  And yes, my main character is unabashedly based on myself and thus technically a Mary-Sue, but above the level of Bella.  Far…far above.

Anyway, I’ve been making some aesthetics to inspire myself, so here’s your very first hint of what I’m getting up to:Dean Aesthetic 2