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Hold on to your horses. I'm about to enter into weird territory.
After getting home from church, the most important thing (after having a bowl of cereal and milk) was a nap, because of the still stupid heat. It was 2:31. I'd originally thought I'd set the alarm for 5, but then decided I wanted the nearly 3 hours. So 5:30 it was.
Closer to the time when the alarm would ring, my brain began to bring me slowly to consciousness. But-but-but my dream was really good. Let's pretend it's current day for entertainment, but I'd gone back to reclaim my age and body from 1990. It wasn't my most active time of life (that was more like the 70s and 80s, especially when I was going to the film festival and attending parties with the *stars*) but close enough. That's also when Brian and I met.
So, here we were, at some big Hollywood function (it could have been a charity event). I'd already been giggling away with Heather Morris whose hair was cut really short and what was left had been gelled into an adorable blonde mini-mohawk. I know, I know, it makes no sense especially after she'd banned hair gel from Promasaurus.
Then it seemed the thing was over (there was more to the dream, but it was already dissipating into wisps a few minutes after I woke ::sighs::) and Brian and I were descending in a glass-sided elevator. In the elevator was Chris Colfer. Of course, me being the old fearless me, I began to talk to him. I believe he was prominent in my mind (and not just because I happen to love his singing – and show makeup) because of an article about how stars are coming out these days. The picture of him showed his hair with golden blond highlights and piled quite high. So I talked to him about his hair. He seemed a bit uncomfortable. When the elevator stopped, I asked if we'd arrived at the mezzanine level. Suddenly, everybody left and the elevator turned into a sightseeing bus with very tall windows, parked in an underground garage. The only people left in it were Brian and I and a rather depressed-looking red-haired woman sitting on the left side, with her head pressed to the window. And that's when the alarm went off!
So what's the point of all this? Well, I should always schedule three-hour naps and the heat is good for my imagination!
[If you haven't figured out why, I chose the icon because it's Chris Colfer In. A. Bed.]
After getting home from church, the most important thing (after having a bowl of cereal and milk) was a nap, because of the still stupid heat. It was 2:31. I'd originally thought I'd set the alarm for 5, but then decided I wanted the nearly 3 hours. So 5:30 it was.
Closer to the time when the alarm would ring, my brain began to bring me slowly to consciousness. But-but-but my dream was really good. Let's pretend it's current day for entertainment, but I'd gone back to reclaim my age and body from 1990. It wasn't my most active time of life (that was more like the 70s and 80s, especially when I was going to the film festival and attending parties with the *stars*) but close enough. That's also when Brian and I met.
So, here we were, at some big Hollywood function (it could have been a charity event). I'd already been giggling away with Heather Morris whose hair was cut really short and what was left had been gelled into an adorable blonde mini-mohawk. I know, I know, it makes no sense especially after she'd banned hair gel from Promasaurus.
Then it seemed the thing was over (there was more to the dream, but it was already dissipating into wisps a few minutes after I woke ::sighs::) and Brian and I were descending in a glass-sided elevator. In the elevator was Chris Colfer. Of course, me being the old fearless me, I began to talk to him. I believe he was prominent in my mind (and not just because I happen to love his singing – and show makeup) because of an article about how stars are coming out these days. The picture of him showed his hair with golden blond highlights and piled quite high. So I talked to him about his hair. He seemed a bit uncomfortable. When the elevator stopped, I asked if we'd arrived at the mezzanine level. Suddenly, everybody left and the elevator turned into a sightseeing bus with very tall windows, parked in an underground garage. The only people left in it were Brian and I and a rather depressed-looking red-haired woman sitting on the left side, with her head pressed to the window. And that's when the alarm went off!
So what's the point of all this? Well, I should always schedule three-hour naps and the heat is good for my imagination!
[If you haven't figured out why, I chose the icon because it's Chris Colfer In. A. Bed.]
