Jan. 15th, 2011

trensu: (wtf)
I had the weirdest dream last night. Neil Gaiman was my English teacher (which was strange because I haven't taken an English class in about two years and I'm certainly not taking one this semester). Then I ended up in his apartment because I had a question about the assignment (it was a recycling project where we had to actually recycle stuff and go green; what the hell?) and for some reason my little brother was with me. I met Gaiman's roommate which turned out to be Terry Pratchett (I don't even know, okay?).

Neil Gaiman was all "let's get ice-cream!" and Terry Pratchett was all "excellent idea!" so Gaiman donned a pair of rollerskates and my brother donned a pair of rollerblades. The two of them skated ahead while me and Pratchett walked. We ended up at, I kid you not, "Eames' Ice-Cream Shoppe." Seriously, that's what the sign said; Eames' name was in a much larger font than the rest of the title, and it was all pink and curlicue. Eames was unfortunately missing, but I was ecstatic to be at his shop nonetheless.

Pratchett ordered first, but I didn't quite hear what sort of ice-cream he chose. My brother ordered razzleberry icecream--is that even a flavor? I've no idea, I've never heard of it before. But it had coconut flakes and I <3 coconut; also, I coerced my brother into letting me taste his and, although I can't describe how it tastes, it was good. So I ended up ordering razzleberry with a scoop of butterscotch--which makes no sense at all because I'm pretty sure I've never even had butterscotch anything before. The ice-cream lady turned to Gaiman and was all "are you sure you want butterscotch mixed with razzleberry?" which sort of ticked me off because, hello, I was right there and I can order my own darn ice-cream, thank you very much. Gaiman was awesome though and simply said, "I believe that's what she ordered and I think she knows what she wants best."

As she started mixing the coconut flakes into my ice-cream, my alarm went off and I woke up.

I've decided I need a PASIV, if only to ruthlessly question my subconscious about these sort of dreams. (And, perhaps, to see if my projections manifest themselves as fictional characters as I suspect they would. Hey, I'm not going to complain if I have Sheppard and Castiel walking around in my mind).

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