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Extremely weird dream.
Apr. 18th, 2004 09:32 am
My brain gets up to the weirdest things when I'm asleep...
( Rare view of the Toon's subconscious, right this way. )
( Rare view of the Toon's subconscious, right this way. )
Dream fragment
Nov. 25th, 2003 11:28 amLong and fairly convoluted dream last night. Here's the bit I remember:
I'm at an airport, with Alex, waiting for a connecting flight. For some reason this airport provides beds -- large soft beds with quilts -- in the waiting area for the comfort and convenience of airline travelers. I'm taking advantage of the bed to catch a nap, because I'm exhausted; Alex is sitting on the edge of the bed reading a book
And we hear singing. Quite nearby. As follows: "Make it one for Washington and all his gallant men, / And one for the girl who once was mine...." By the second line half a dozen voices have joined in. By the time they reach "And don't forget the Blacksmith of Brandywine!" I'm out of bed and singing along, and we're both looking around frantically trying to find where it's coming from.
Where it's coming from is a lounge of sorts opposite our waiting area. And there they are. Filkers! A good twenty or thirty filkers, some with guitars out, in a ragged circle around the lounge, with their luggage piled up around them.
And we hurry over to join the circle, and there are exclamations of welcome and hugs, and somebody asks me where Lady Mondegreen is performing next, and I'm somehow not the least bit tired anymore. And we sit down to sing until our flight arrives.
...*sigh*
We really ought to have a housefilk sometime soon.
I'm at an airport, with Alex, waiting for a connecting flight. For some reason this airport provides beds -- large soft beds with quilts -- in the waiting area for the comfort and convenience of airline travelers. I'm taking advantage of the bed to catch a nap, because I'm exhausted; Alex is sitting on the edge of the bed reading a book
And we hear singing. Quite nearby. As follows: "Make it one for Washington and all his gallant men, / And one for the girl who once was mine...." By the second line half a dozen voices have joined in. By the time they reach "And don't forget the Blacksmith of Brandywine!" I'm out of bed and singing along, and we're both looking around frantically trying to find where it's coming from.
Where it's coming from is a lounge of sorts opposite our waiting area. And there they are. Filkers! A good twenty or thirty filkers, some with guitars out, in a ragged circle around the lounge, with their luggage piled up around them.
And we hurry over to join the circle, and there are exclamations of welcome and hugs, and somebody asks me where Lady Mondegreen is performing next, and I'm somehow not the least bit tired anymore. And we sit down to sing until our flight arrives.
...*sigh*
We really ought to have a housefilk sometime soon.
Strange dream ... wonder what it means
Oct. 10th, 2002 01:21 pm
So every now and then my beloved clone ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
cadhla will tell us about having dreamed a movie, or a TV series. Usually quite an interesting one.
A few nights ago I dreamed a commercial. For a car. A sedan, I think.
The commercial storyline involved a bunch of people in a small town not far from a major interstate highway, riding their bicycles to the edge of the highway to watch the Wild Hunt go by.
Yes, the Wild Hunt. Driving aforesaid black sedans.
It was actually a fairly pleasant commercial: beautifully shot, nicely atmospheric, and assuming a certain knowledge of folklore on the part of the viewer, which is always fun.
I just can't figure out how it got in my head.
You'd think anyone who knows enough to broadcast this commercial to specifically my dream would know that I don't drive.
cadhla will tell us about having dreamed a movie, or a TV series. Usually quite an interesting one.A few nights ago I dreamed a commercial. For a car. A sedan, I think.
The commercial storyline involved a bunch of people in a small town not far from a major interstate highway, riding their bicycles to the edge of the highway to watch the Wild Hunt go by.
Yes, the Wild Hunt. Driving aforesaid black sedans.
It was actually a fairly pleasant commercial: beautifully shot, nicely atmospheric, and assuming a certain knowledge of folklore on the part of the viewer, which is always fun.
I just can't figure out how it got in my head.
You'd think anyone who knows enough to broadcast this commercial to specifically my dream would know that I don't drive.
