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| Tuesday, September 1, 2009 06:20 AM |
| Dream Time Again |
 by Fëanor |
The other night I dreamed that filmmaker Rian Johnson called me up to thank me for something nice I wrote about one of his movies on the internet. Then he came to my house and we talked about films for a while. I believe we talked in a bedroom on the second floor, although it didn't look like any bedroom that's actually in my house. He had a list of movies he was looking at, and at first I thought it was a list of movies he'd made, as Brick was on it, but then I noticed that Hellboy 2 was on it, as well, and realized I must be wrong. I told him I'd really liked Hellboy 2, but wasn't a big fan of Hellboy. He expressed surprise. Then he asked if I could give him a ride somewhere, and I said sure. We went downstairs. Oddly, the downstairs part of the house was a huge, echoing warehouse, empty except for a few couches. Gillian's guy Josh was there on one of the couches, and poppy was on the other couch. As I was putting on my jacket, I introduced them to Rian. Neither of them seemed impressed that a famous filmmaker had come to visit me; in fact, Josh seemed rather annoyed.
Earlier in the dream, I remember walking with somebody, possibly my brother, up to my house. The other houses along the street (which didn't look like my street in real life) had lots of '80s toys arranged in their yards, as lawn ornaments. I believe there was also an odd animal living in my backyard, possibly up in a tree, but that's all I remember. |
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| Monday, June 15, 2009 12:37 PM |
| A Few Unrelated Items |
 by Fëanor |
- We had a busy weekend this past weekend. Poppy and I went to see Cinematic Titanic live Friday night (full review forthcoming), then we went to a barbecue Saturday afternoon, and a surprise birthday party Sunday afternoon.
- Last night I had a disturbing dream that myself and a group of other folks (possibly my family? If so, they weren't my real family, just my dream family) got turned into zombies. We weren't your average zombies, though; we weren't moaning, shambling, unintelligent beasts. All of our smarts had survived intact. And we were physically intact, too, if I remember correctly; no rotting flesh or any of that. We were hungry and realized we were craving human organs (specifically brains), so we planned an assault on a police station. Once we invaded it, we started beating prisoners and cops alike into unconsciousness, trusting on our superhuman zombie strength and nigh invulnerability to save us from any counterattacks. I tried to convince my compatriots to drag the people inside the station before we started cutting their skulls open with saws to get at their brains. Even though I was a zombie, I still found all this quite disgusting. So I was pretty glad when I finally woke up! Even if it was to the dog whining for no good reason.
- I submitted my tattoo to Contrariwise, a literary tattoo website, a while back, and today it got posted.
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