Dreams....Verb disagreement and Nathan Fillion

[wolven7]

Dreams of being at a really big party, with lots of strange stars, after being in a Gern museum, stalked by two people I had to try to stab, and beat the hell out of (a man and a woman), and one of whom (the man) threw a radioink tatt on my bookbag, when he followed me onto the elevator. The was after I apologised to them, loudly and in public, for something I didn't do, but which they seemed determined to hassle me for. Something petty.

The party, with celebrities, football players, TV stars, shit like that. Reanna and I snuck over the fence, ater having moved out of the house before last, the Briarlake house, which was kind of combined with the Tucker house. Anyway, sonething in there about having sex with Laura Prepon, and reannaremick and I climbed the fence of this party, only we were in the past, with future memories, and we had to remember how we had done this all before, and we make it over, and we millaround, and Nathan Fillion is there, talking to me about something, remembering my name from the one time we met for two minutes, and asking something really important of me. I can't hear him over the party.

I go inside, past all the peopole, and the hallways are endless repetitions of my short length of hallway, in the new apartment, set at angles to each other, and there was a kid who had been slighted by one of the other kids, and everyone in this school is special, we're all exceptional, somehow, but we're also all daners to society. So, naturally, they put us in one place, and we begin to feed off of each other. One kid is the butt end of every joke, even the ones by the new kid, and he's had enough of it, and he's planning things with chemicals, in the hallways, late at night, and I stop and talk to him, coming in from the party. I tell him the many downsides to what he's doing, that he doenst want to piss off somebody with a matter deconstructer, or some kind of a poison lab, or, at which point he tells me that the kid is here for identity fraud, and I say "Even worse.". I explain to him that I've been in lots of these kinds of schools, and the solution is always the same: Make yourself indespensible. Provide something no one else can, and all will be well..

Something else happened, after that, some combination of That 70's Show, and something else, ridiculous. Maybe Evil Dead.

I need breakfast. Ta.

Comments

[cryptickisses.livejournal.com]

I need to have a chat with the Sandman and tell him to send Nathan Fillion over to my dreams. It's about time he paid me another visit. Good God, I love that man.

So....what was he wearing? :P

[wolven.livejournal.com]

I'll see if I can't pull some strings, in that direction. :)

He was dressed kind of like a cross between Mal, and everyday street clothes. It was strange.