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A very odd dream.
Jan. 30th, 2002 11:54 amI dreamed I was in the air force, and my battalion or whatever got me in trouble. We weren’t supposed to go outside, but they took my pointe shoes and made it look like I’d been walking around outside. When my commanding officer saw the tracks in the snow (along with other people’s) he thought that I was the ringleader and made me stay inside and clean the barracks while everyone else got to go do something fun.
So I’m sitting there, cleaning up after the penguins that were defecating all over the place, getting more and more pissed off about the unfairness of life, when I sit down to take a break. Then, in walks- of all people- Josh Hartnett. (This is surprising because I don’t care about or particularly like Josh Hartnett, having only seen fifteen minutes of Pearl Harbor.)
“What’s bugging you?” he asked me.
“Nothing’s bugging me. You’re imagining things.”
“Something’s wrong. I can tell.”
“I’m telling you, I’m fine.” And I started to clean again. He pulled me down to sit next to him again.
“I know something’s wrong, because you’re just like me. You try to cover it up and pretend that nothing’s the matter when something really is.”
“No really, nothing’s wrong.”
Then we started to play solitaire. The penguins had finally stopped, so I didn’t have to clean anymore. We were just sitting and talking about nothing in particular, except that he kept trying to find out what was wrong with me. Then my dad walked in.
“Could you iron these placemats when you get a chance?” he asked me.
“Yeah. Just leave ‘em on the chair.”
“Thanks.” He put them over the back of the chair and left. Me and Josh went back to playing solitaire/talking.
Then my sister started screaming. “Sorry, Josh, I gotta go, that’s my sister,” I said. He nodded and kissed my forehead. “That’s cool. Talk to you later.”
Then I woke up.
My sister really was screaming. She had fallen on the steps outside, which were covered in black ice.
So I’m sitting there, cleaning up after the penguins that were defecating all over the place, getting more and more pissed off about the unfairness of life, when I sit down to take a break. Then, in walks- of all people- Josh Hartnett. (This is surprising because I don’t care about or particularly like Josh Hartnett, having only seen fifteen minutes of Pearl Harbor.)
“What’s bugging you?” he asked me.
“Nothing’s bugging me. You’re imagining things.”
“Something’s wrong. I can tell.”
“I’m telling you, I’m fine.” And I started to clean again. He pulled me down to sit next to him again.
“I know something’s wrong, because you’re just like me. You try to cover it up and pretend that nothing’s the matter when something really is.”
“No really, nothing’s wrong.”
Then we started to play solitaire. The penguins had finally stopped, so I didn’t have to clean anymore. We were just sitting and talking about nothing in particular, except that he kept trying to find out what was wrong with me. Then my dad walked in.
“Could you iron these placemats when you get a chance?” he asked me.
“Yeah. Just leave ‘em on the chair.”
“Thanks.” He put them over the back of the chair and left. Me and Josh went back to playing solitaire/talking.
Then my sister started screaming. “Sorry, Josh, I gotta go, that’s my sister,” I said. He nodded and kissed my forehead. “That’s cool. Talk to you later.”
Then I woke up.
My sister really was screaming. She had fallen on the steps outside, which were covered in black ice.
