Why am I dreaming of Lex Luthor?

So, dreams. Had many.
Including one about Daleks that was deeply fucking unfair because I hadn't even looked at any Dalek pictures lately and *shudders*. There were four Daleks with different weapon configurations. I had a forcefield that was stopping three of them but I knew the 4th had a gas gun that would go right through. I ran away and got as far as the stairs and then there was a Dalek floating right down the stairs because of course that was the scariest moment to find it and arrrrrgh.
... I, er, don't like Dalek dreams.
And that one was set at bloody boarding school again, so that's a whole set of connotations right there I could really have lived without.

Yes, today is college again. Yes, my anxiety levels are about as per usual. Yes, this means feeling vaguely sick already. I really hate that. But I tell myself I like learning, so.


Other dream had Avon in, but it was just the usual slightly embarrassing fangirl stuff. Slight embarrasssing because once I wake up I don't even fancy him. You know, until he snarks. He's kind of awkward like that. I vaguely wish for a prettier version, or at least to dream with a slightly different cast.


In the one right before I woke up, I was married to Lex Luthor.
Smallville Lex, so the pretty worked for once.
Mostly though it was one of those out of my depth dreams, where I wander around a lot not knowing what's going on.
We were married, but nobody in his orbit considered this more than a temporary aberration, soon to be remedied without even a decent payoff because I'd been dumb about my prenup.
(I didn't think it was being dumb, I thought it was about not actually wanting much money. But they did not consider this a reasonable motive.)
Especially eager to encourage my early departure was this bimbo who looked like a comic book woman only with actual curves. You know, breasts and everything all precariously balanced and surely requiring steel reinforcement except she's wearing so little you can tell there isn't any. She was sort of depressing in her very existence, because I was wandering around looking pretty much like I usually do.
Right now I'm looking more chocolate enhanced than I usually do, which is depressing to wake up to.
But anyways, there was a whole section of dream where I was wandering around lost because she'd remodelled the house while I was asleep and the bathroom was now part of the public area and I didn't feel like asking anyone where the bathroom was in what was, technically, my own house.
Only then there was Plot and Very Bad Things were about to happen, including bimbo lady turning out to be a meta (hah! explains the anti-grav breasts!) and involved in some plot to take over... something. Yeah, I was pretty much that confused in the dream. But she walked off a balcony and kept going like it was nothing, so she was definitely not quite what she appeared.
I had to yell for help. Specifically, I had to yell for Superman to help. And he arrived practically before I'd finished the words, because he always kept an eye on me due to not trusting Lex as far as he could throw him and thinking I was like spiderweb stuck there or something.
Lex was Not Best Pleased, and would much rather his life had a lack of Superman.
But nobody got blown up or shot or anything, so I called that a win.
Later though I was wandering around, usual security team trailing along behind, and I decided to look over the scene of the nearly-crime, so I was in an emptied out auditorium with lots of seats that were fixed in the lower area and lots of temporary and easy to move seats up where I was. And this was important because suddenly one of the security guys threw a handful of grey goop at the other security guy and he started screaming and writhing and then the goop ate right through him and ate his bones and it was incredibly gross and also very much of the bad because I was going to be next.
So I did running and hiding, and then there was this really unfun sequence with me being stalked by crazy security guy, which was kind of surreal because he looked like a younger steroid pumped Chandler Bing.
I had a cellphone and hit speeddial and called Lex for help. I said I was in real bad trouble and I'd maybe have to say the S word again and that wasn't a threat and I knew he didn't like me saying it and... All the time I was sliding along under seats, trying to stay away from the bad guy. And as mentioned I'm not a small person, widthwise, so under seats was tricky. And then I reached a row where the seats weren't fixed and instead of going under I knocked one and they did that domino thing and now I was stuck half under the seats and the bad man was coming and it was very not good and then Lex was there!
And it was like... Superman diving in to save you is cool, but not particularly much of a risk to him, right? I mean, someone throws bone eating goop at Superman, he's just going to give them a look, maybe burn the stuff off. But this was just Lex, and he was there in half his formal suit, shirt sleeves rolled up and tie half tied, and he'd outrun his security staff so he was the first one there and he just put himself in front of me and it was the scariest moment ever because all that would mean is Lex would die first
and whatever everyone else thought, I'd married him because I *liked* him, so watching him die in screaming agony would be very very bad.
But then there were guns and the goop guy fell over and probably gooped himself to death or something. I didn't care. My guy had saved me and it was good.
Except he'd got cut across the face and he was all bruised and I should have said Superman that time even if it was only me in danger.
He wasn't angry at me, he was extra tired. That kind of worn out tired when you realise things have been wrong for a while and you hadn't noticed. And he told me that he wouldn't be angry and I shouldn't even consider that. And I said I wasn't scared of him, angry wasn't what bothered me, but he was always so hurt about it. Only, you know, now he was hurt in extra ways, and that was a really big screw up.

It wasn't exactly a happy romantic sort of a dream, really.
Because that was pretty much where it ended, Lex and me on a stage with nobody watching and his staff sent away, and his face half in bandages, and everyone extra tired.



You know, I'm pretty sure other people have sleep where they just go to sleep and wake up.
Or dreams that don't involve screaming, running, hiding, reliance on forcefields, or attempting to hold back a Dalek with a buzzsaw attachment by trying to keep a broom handle wedged between you at such an angle the saw can't reach it.


I wanna go back to sleep and have the *restful* sort of dreams.

Won't happen though.

(no subject)

Today achieved! Yaays!

I went to college. The timetable wasn't screwed this semester. Intro Lit 2 will indeed be Tuesdays 1300-1500 and Thursdays 0900-1200. And we will be looking at poetry.
Teach says mostly the point is to find out that poetry is fun.

Teach also reckons that the song "Every sperm is sacred" is exactly like poetry
on account of every word is sacred.

Methinks this will remain memorable.


Later lessons may include poetry in the pub, and going to the cathedral to chant.
... see, those things sound more challenging than fun to me, but I'll see when we get there.

She also says the class is usually about 10 people, and now we have 36.
36 people chanting will be quite fun.


Less fun was we were reading things out around the class and I looked at the first line of the poem and... okay, maybe the rest of the world sees lovely lines of alliteration, but me? I see the *stutter that never ends*.

It was very much a stuttering day.
I stuttered trying to say "I stutter".

I have decided to *facepalm* less and just move on.
... yup, any minute now... not a major embarrassment at all...



Thing is, I'm pretty much sure nobody else thinks it's even a thing.
It's just bloody frustrating from my side of it, stuck pushing the words uphill, sort of thing.



On the plus side: Got my essays back :-)
Got useful comments on them.
Mostly useful, anyways. The one that said it was a bit short I'm going to email her back about, because it was 655 words on a 600 word limit. I'm not sure those extra 5 would have satisfied.

Also useful, yet frustrating, is finding that each and every trick I use to squish it under word limit gets called by this teach - little arrows and the necessary grammar put back in.
And, er, I'm apparently not to use - any more. They curled them all into being , instead.
I like - better than , as you may have noticed.
It was a bit embarrassing to see.

The bits about my level of comprehension were all yaay, and they noticed the reading (which is a bit of a relief, having done *all* of it).

There was also the comment that it read like a longer essay trying to get out... er, yes, that would be what's known as 'the first draft'. Oops.

Also, by the third essay, I got the references and bibliography thing sorted.
... moving quickly past what the first two essays didn't quite manage ...



Basically it said nice things about my thinky stuff, and fairly nice things about my writing, and slightly frustrating things about my ongoing battle with the word limit.
Yup, familiar.




Also for the learning skills unit I finally found who the rest of my group were and got us all in the same room. We went and found the tutor and asked what the assignment actually is. I'd got it on a piece of paper but not found it. The paper, yes, the relevant section, not so much. don't know why. Just one of those days.
But when I asked what the hoops were they said "film a ten minute video, hand it in, and you've passed".
The actual content is very near irrelevant. Probably would help if it makes sense in English. But the actual point is to work in a group to film a presentation. What we present is completely not the point.

... I suggested the topics Torchwood and Buffy.
Then I thought *really hard* and stretched as far as 'favourite books'.
Discussion brought up Alice in Wonderland and Peter Pan and Lord of the Rings, as books that are also films and we could play with in different ways.
Successful meeting, really.
... slightly odd in that half of it took place in the corridor outside the toilets, but results were achieved, so *shrugs*



And then when I got home I answered two emails. Er, one of which I should have answered last week, or possibly earlier. But I only just got the data when I got home just now.


So it was a day full of Stuff.



Oh, and I wrote a limerick in class. Teach wants to learn our names so we had to write a limerick about us and she printed out all our photos and she'll stick them next to the photo and learn who we are.

... no I'm not printing it here. It fits the genre conventions, including the 'attempt funny' and 'attempt filthy'. It, er, doesn't do so *well*, but it does it with the right rhyme scheme and dumptydums. Whatsit. Rhythms.

... when doing an English class it probably helps to learn the words.



We have no reading to do - in no small part because the second reader got stuck in repro, due to them having half a term to do it and only starting today and it got stuck. Unhelpful. Still, should be done for Thursday.
We have suggested listening instead, because poems are for speaking.
so the 'listen again' on Radio 4 should come in handy then.