recently on ILX Dreams...

was it martin?

*mmmmwahwmwammawahmmm*
"HI DERE!"

I'm not naming names until I can tell the two people involved in this dream about it, privately.

I forgot to add that in this dream, Nate was a white rastafarian in a long leather coat. With a gun.

I am reporting another pinefox dream, but unfortunately this one didn't happen on a sunny soccer pitch; I just dreamt that I was reading a post of his that read "Tracer Hand seems to want a world where he is necessary." Not quite those words, but that's the gist.

At any length, the person I was watching TV with was Julia, and the person who was the new consumer reporter for ABC was Ned. *laughs* I didn't think it was creepy or anything -- just thought it would be weird to admit this without chatting with these people in private. Oh well. You're right. Much ado about very little.

*returns to "Sing Blue Silver" therapy*

Graduations: "THE BAHLOOOZ EXPUHLOZHEEIN!"
Bar Mitzvahs: "PLAY THE BAHLOOOZ, PUNK! MAZELTOFF!"
Funerals: "I'M TAALKEEEN BOUT THE BAHLOOOOOOOOOOZ!"

I have only just read Tracer H's posts. I am somehow warmed or cheered to read of his more than one dream of me. I think I like his description of my approach to footy as well.

Then I learned that I had to go to Ireland. It was unavoidable. But I was sad because I thought that Irish people I know were coming over here, and I would not see them.

I woke up before I went, or did not go.

Then I was out on the high street, yes, that old high street, with Amanda Wright. It was terribly windy. She was after chips, I think.

She said other things, some I can't remember, some I can't repeat.

(from last Friday night)
I was leaving a vague someone's apartment, I knew it was very late at night, almost sunrise, and my son was with me, and he was still awake. I realized we needed to get home immediately, so we leave. As I drive towards our house through the 'hood, I have to maneuver through strange gangs of children who are throwing fireworks or explosives or something. The whole thing is very vaguely sinister; after all, it is right before sun-up. Then something explodes near my car and Luk4s and I get out and walk. As we're walking an IRL acquaintance (whom I at one point or another have had a massive crush on) appears out of the strange throng gathered at my door, but no real involvement in the dream-plot yet. Anyway, my house is full of cops who show me all these strange drugs they've found in my house, drugs that I definitely AM NOT down with: heroin, crack, meth, etc. Then they handcuff me and drag me away from Luk4s, who is yelling "DADDY! DADDY!". As I'm dragged out the door, away from my son, random crush/acquaintance watches, points, and laughs.

I'm touched.

After watching a French short film consisting of two teenage lesbians eating chocolate and strawberries I realized the inherent Republicanness of Dr. Zhivago.

-- M0mu5 (m0mu5@m0mu5.co.uk), November 19th, 2003

I'm talkin' 'bout THAAAAA BAHLOOOOOOOOOOOOOZ!!!

-- J0n Sp3nc3r (the_blues_is_number_1@jsbx.gov), November 19th, 2003

D'oh!