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I decided I like this dream thread more than the other one because 1. PPFY has hijacked the other one to talk about himself 2. Greg is revealing stuff that most of us wouldn't even share with a psychotherapist and 3. the queen's comments on DM's tux wearing.
Anyway, I had a DOOMish dream last night. I can't remember it at all, except that KB was in it and we were both at some sort of concert. It was an outdoor concert, but the bowl was super steep like inside an arena. We commented to each other about that. That's it. That's all I remember.
Shadow boxing the apocalypse
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Enough about what I think about me, what do *you* think about me?
In the Tudor Period, Fencing Masters were classified in the Vagrancy Laws along with Actors, Gypsys, Vagabonds, Sturdy Rogues, and the owners of performing bears.
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All of you came to visit us, but we're not at Doom South, for some reason we're in the basement of the house I grew up in in the Chicago area. I decide I want to do something nice for you guys, so I head to the kitchen to bake you a special treat: boob-shaped cookies. With chocolate chips for nipples. At least I was GOING to do that, but DM beat me to the kitchen; he had already baked a batch of normal cookies.
 hock:
Before you criticize someone, walk a mile in their shoes. That way when you criticize them, you're a mile away and you have their shoes.
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The Queen dreameth to oft upon our DM...
In the Tudor Period, Fencing Masters were classified in the Vagrancy Laws along with Actors, Gypsys, Vagabonds, Sturdy Rogues, and the owners of performing bears.
Damn you, DM.
You know how I like ... chocolate chip cookies.
Now you must provide make-up links to all.
--cranefly
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Dr. Ivor Yeti Wrote:The Queen dreameth to oft upon our DM...
Don't be jealous - you were there too. You just didn't interfere with the cookie plans.
Before you criticize someone, walk a mile in their shoes. That way when you criticize them, you're a mile away and you have their shoes.
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The Queen is just the only one honest enough to admit it.
As for me, I had this insane dream last night. I moved like a gothic horror film. When I woke up, I thought I should write it down because it might make a decent short story someday. Of course, I've forgotten most of it already, but it involved a haunted swing and a ghostly child. And none of you were in it. Nor were there any cookies. Sorry.
The cookie dream is great tho. I'm so honored...err...I think... At the very least, it'll irk Greg because.....umm...wait... I made regular cookes? What the hell does that mean? Perhaps this dream would make more sense if the Queen shared her true feelings about chocolate chip cookies.
Shadow boxing the apocalypse
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...every DOOMer North-above-Kettleman is there. So is Greg and TQ. We're having some nice gathering thing and it's very good and pleasant to see.
Fast forward, or sideward as dreams tend to go, and it's just the N-of-K DOOMers in some SUV, pulling into a driveway at some undisclosed suburban abode. We see Greg, TQ and Scapino, South-under-Kettleman DOOM, through the window in the living room. "Oh shit!" cries PPFY, who is at the wheel, and he makes a dramatic and noisy U-turn across the lawn, spiriting us all away. We can see S-u-K DOOM acting very agitated in the rear view mirror.
The scene shifts again and we (N-o-K DOOM) are all back, sitting in some den, with a typical connected kitchen and counter. We are watching videos and Greg, TQ and Scapino (S-u-K DOOM) burst in. Scapino is really upset at PPFY's evasive maneuver. He's so mad that he dives over the counter and grabs HK's collar violently (although HK is totally nonplussed about it all). ED quips quickly that we had just been hanging out with Greg and TQ, and to hang out with them anymore would be like "slamming a dozen espresso shots in a row." Greg and TQ totally accept this excuse; In fact, they even seem flattered by it. Scapino is still pissed off, but no one pays any attention to him.
Shadow boxing the apocalypse
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I'm in charge of the scuba operation. I Have Eddie Murphy on my squad. He has a gun. I have a gun. As I have my gun over his gun, his gun goes off and shoots the man across from him in the center of the forehead.
If I'm going to dream about cast members from dreamgirls, I'd like a different set of options.
So much for the flickr badge idea. Dammit
Haggis Killer
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What do I look like when I'm nonplussed?
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a minus.
In the Tudor Period, Fencing Masters were classified in the Vagrancy Laws along with Actors, Gypsys, Vagabonds, Sturdy Rogues, and the owners of performing bears.
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And I am just an aghast spectator.
We are in Bizarro New York. The family and I.
It turns out, for Mel Gibson to rehab his career he has decided to date one of the common people. That common person turns out to be my sister Roberta. At some point I ask her how she is going to take care of all those kids?
So much for the flickr badge idea. Dammit
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I share this because it demonstrates ably how quickly dreams can go horribly wrong.
I've made the decision to return to UCSB to get a degree in graphic design. Go figure. I spent a lot of time in the dream in line trying to pay my admission to get into the school. The queen was with me and we sat in the hall in a long snake of chairs. The chair next to me was empty as the Queen went to do what the Queen does. I spent a lot of time telling people know the chair wasn't open and they couldn't jump the Que.
As usually happens in my UCSB dreams, I need to find housing. The dreams jumps to a lovely split level house. Unfortunately, the doors have all been wedged shut with explosives. Once second I'm trying to get into college again, the next I'm trapped in a house full of explosives.
I use racquetballs to set off the explosives and escape.
So much for the flickr badge idea. Dammit
So...
By any chance did this house have a street number of 55?
There you have it, you destructive dreamstalker, you...
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But only if it was time traveling Dreamstalker sort of dream. And the house in SB was so much nicer than the freezing castle highland.
So much for the flickr badge idea. Dammit
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