Another late mornng and another weird dream. Well, a weird set of dreams actually. I don't remember very much of the details as the memories flee last upon awakening, but the ending (or pretty close to the ending) was a doozy.
What I remember about most of my dreams from this past night was bits and pieces revolving around a current fiction story I'm working on. It's NCIS based and has the goth Forensic scientist, Abby, confronting a piece of her past that she thought was buried long ago, her brother and her time as a member of the Super Friends. It was a spur of the moment idea several months ago and I wrote the beginning and then the muses in my head took a vacation and I quit working on that particular fic. I started back on it yesterday and wrote until I ran face-first into a creative wall, not sure which direction to go. And as I slept, my subconcious took over and several scenes played in my head. I now know where the stories going and what directions my characters should take. I'll be working on that in just a little bit.
But then, after the muses told me what to do with Abby and Ziva (oops - I think I just gave away some spoilers - hate it when that happens), things started to get weird. I was myself, but in a situation I don't think I'd ever actually find myself. Or maybe I would? Who knows?
I'm at some sort of resort or business and I'm part of this group who's job it is to make the customers happy, whatever it takes. And it's the end of the holiday and we (my co-workers and I) are all talking and discussing how we're going to go home and there isn't enough room in the car for all of us. I'm called away because I'm told that someone wants to talk to me.
The next thing I know is that I"m sitting on a brick wall and talking to a woman with reddish hair and glasses. It's Racquel Welch and despite her age, she still looks like she did in the seventies, which is HOT! Of course, I saw her not long ago on a commercial for eyeglasses and she is still HOT! And she's talking about something that she read on one of my blogs which made her smile and was amusing. And I'm just listening to her as she offers constructive advice about how I could market my writing and be very successful. And I'm just sitting there, listening and taking it all in and laughing and smiling.
And then the mood changed as she mentions that in my writings, I don't seem like I'm the most faithful of persons and I like to be crazy. I agree with her that I might be impulsive at times and I've made some mistakes in my life. And then this is where it gets really weird. Racquel Welch, the hottest actress in Hollywood in the 70's and still one of the sexiest women in the world today, asks if I'd like to be impulsive now and make a mistake or two.
She's hitting on me. At this point, she's not wearing anything but a sheet and she's smiling a vixen-like smile, like a cat preparing to eat a bird and I can feel my stomach doing butterflies. And I tell her "No!". I tell her that I'm not perfect and I've done some stupid things in my life, but I love a certain, very special guy and I won't... I can't cheat on him.
Racquel just smiles an evil smile and whips open a curtain that was right behind me that I had not noticed before and there a long table full of young people wearing suits. Blazers anyhow and they're all watching us and staring. And Racquel stands up and demands that I be fired because she's not happy. She just turns into a total bitch. And I see the people in the Blazer's scurrying around like mice, pouring drinks into small paper cups and they all stand up and give me a toast. They offer me congratulations for not giving in and then tell me that, by the way, I'm fired from my job. But since it's the last day of the season, it doesn't matter anyhow and we're going to have a party.
And then the scene changes and I'm in a bathtub, a big tub since I'm a big guy, but there's still plenty of room in the tub and I'm just stretched out and relaxing. There's plenty of bubbles everywhere and I hear music that I can't really identify playing softly in the background. It's classical music, but it's got a bit more of a kick than the usual traditional classical music. And I'm listening and relaxing and trying to identify the music. At first, I think it's Mick Jagger, but then decide that it's a woman singing and am thinking Rickie Lee Jones because it's changed and is so bluesy now. And then I woke up.
So what can I gather from these dreams? Well, I've discovered what direction I should take my fic-story and maybe I'll actually manage to finish this one. And I've got some ideas about how to promote and build upon my writing. And most importantly, I've discovered that I'm not a total ass-clown as a boyfriend. I make mistakes, do stupid things and push the envelope at times, but I turned down Racquel Welch because I didn't want to betray the trust of the man I love. I thought of him and told Racquel Welch "No!". Now who would do something like that? Evidentially, me... lol.
And that makes me feel pretty damn good. Maybe there's hope for me yet. I love you Cal...
Have a great day!