THREE DAYS ’til my birthday, pipols! Wot about three days! WOT ABOUT THREE DAYS GRACE.
I am seriously excited right now. Tonight brother is picking me up from work and we’re heading straight to A THREE DAYS GRACE CONCERT. We’re going to be out way late and I’m sure to be dreadfully exhausted by the time we get home, but THREE DAYS GRACE. THREE DAYS GRACE THREE DAYS ‘TIL MY BIRTHDAY. Finally I will see my favorite band in person! Yaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
And then tomorrow there are two football games, and on Sunday we go to Santa Fe!!!!!!
I am at work right now, counting down the minutes until I get to leave. What a useless work day this will be XD
Actually I’ve been super excited all week, and on Monday and Tuesday I kept thinking it was Thursday. So many amazing things will happen! What an awesome weekend!
OK, a couple of dreams and then I guess I’ll make an arrangement. First, I and Regina were joining Emma going to Neverland to rescue Henry. There was sexual tension among the three of us, but at the same time I didn’t fully trust Regina.
When we got there, the Henry-related story seemed to have been forgotten. Also, Neverland was also kinda forgotten. The place we’d reached was a rustic settlement (well, rustic except for the cathedral) whose people immediately accepted Emma as the prophesied pope figure they’d been waiting for. Go figure.
Emma didn’t have any magical powers in this dream, but Regina, of course, did, and so did I. So Regina and I kept using magic to make it look like Emma had magic to impress the peoples. It was frustrating to all three of us, because Regina and I were doing a lot of work without getting any credit, and the adoring public wouldn’t leave Emma alone for three minutes.
Then at one point Emma was going to go off somewhere to do something, and she reached into a box to grab a thing she needed to take with her. But she pulled her hand back covered in blood from a sudden long, deep cut. With the type of badass special effects you get in dreams, I started lifting the blood away and stitching up the wound telekinetically. I gathered the blood into a ball much like Upfish’s beloved blood-ball except that the containing outer layer was squishy instead of glass. Like a completely transparent water balloon filled with blood.
I turned to Regina and said, “Did you want some of Emma’s blood?” She said she didn’t, and I pressed, “Are you sure? Because that seems like something you would want.” But she still said no. This was a sign of the mistrust I still felt toward her, since apparently having some of Emma’s blood would make it easier for Regina to double-cross Emma later, but it also apparently partook of the sexual tension.
We noticed that the object Emma had supposedly cut herself on didn’t seem like it would have created the type of cut she had. So we dug around in the box and discovered a much sharper and more dangerous item that we agreed had definitely been planted there; someone was out to get Emma.
At the same time, though, I also observed that she had lost a lot of blood and wasn’t reacting at all as if she had. This occasioned a flash of knowledge offered to my dreaming self that Emma had, in fact, been replaced by a robot by some enemy or other. But I never found out why, because that was the end of the dream.
In another dream, I was somewhere when I saw a little dog (I think it was a lhasa) run away from its person. I got into my little car (I think it was a Kia) and gave chase, and came upon a flowery mountain glen where the little dog played happily with three or four other dogs. I called the owner and told her where to come to retrieve her dog.
When she arrived, she and I started walking across the meadow toward the dogs, discussing runaway dogs and other related topics. Halfway across, though, we came upon another lady having her picture painted, and my companion realized she knew this lady.
“I almost didn’t recognize you!” said the dog owner. “I haven’t seen you since you had your sex reassignment surgery!”
There was a happy but brief reunion of these two friends before the painter of the portrait got annoyed at our interruption of her work and shooed us away. I wanted to congratulate the lady on having gotten sex reassignment surgery, but not only was I not supposed to talk to her while she was having her picture painted, I didn’t know whether or not it would be awkward when I wasn’t actually acquainted with her at all.
So those were my dreams.