I dreamed wonders
Jan. 31st, 2018 01:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beccaelizabethI dreamed a Library.
I'd been spending time with John Constantine in a vigorous yet relaxing recreational capacity, and after, we went for a stroll around the back of my place.
Only it wasn't the boring road and rail there is in real life, it was the old trees and a promising looking hint of distant river, and right behind the building, a water tower. But not one of the admittedly cool looking concrete ufo ones. A soaring brick dealie with a green copper roof. Lovely looking thing. And down among the arches there was a Library.
It had the loveliest inviting curves of bookcase filled with hardcovers all gleaming gold highlights. You just knew it had all kinds of everything back there.
So John, holding my hand, wanders up to the place. And I am greeted by a bustling older lady who seems the very type of Librarian, and quite cheered to see me... but looks at John like, *stare*, *sigh*. He was giving it the charming chat but you very much got the impression she had heard it all before.
He was not allowed in in his coat. The tan trenchcoat. Nope.
But Librarian lady loaned him one of my garments and he could go in like that. It was my black fuzzy hoodie with the big pocket. He does not look quite himself in a black fuzzy hoodie with a big pocket. But needs must.
So he goes in and I have to wait outside, where lot of people are waiting, so it's quite interesting, but I don't talk to anyone cause I'm me. But pretty quick after that I am allowed in, if I wear my blue robe with the snowflakes. It is also fuzzy, but it's much more wizardy, as I tell John when I catch up with him.
He's sat at a table with books and books open before him, very concerned concentrate. All the books look sort of raggedy, not just well read but with pages torn out, and there's heaps of photocopies stuffed in to replace them. I start trying to put them in proper order but some of them are stapled together. And there's no knowing half the time if they're in the right book, the edges having been lost in the copying, and only indifferently handwritten in. So his research, it goes like stress study dreams I have had, and I decide to leave him to it.
But I ask if there's books for sale in here too, and he suddenly pays very sharp attention, asking what I'm planning to pay for them with. And I say cash, with a subtext of duh. So he relaxes and smiles again, and even gives me back some cash I'd loaned him earlier, when I was feeling especial goodwill towards men, or a least this one. So I'm quite well supplied, and once aimed at the for sale shelves, I go off with a bag to fill.
I start by trying to find dead authors, with the intent of getting the next one in the series. Because whatever John thinks I'm not mundane enough I've missed what manner of place this is, and it's worth a try. And I find one right away, and it's an anthology with a bunch of people who I'd buy right away anywhere, but, it's library book. On a shelf of library books. All wrapped in library wrappers. And I very much do not have a library card, so I would have to stay he to read it. So I make sad face and sigh, and put it back without so much as peeking inside the cover. (Sorry.)
The anthology name was Gods and Monsters, and when I turn around the displays have reconfigured and now seem mostly on that theme. The big shelves to my left had a lot of face out books with Sin in the title. Further along on my right there were tables set out like convention artists, with names and explains I was vaguely surprised weren't all in classical languages. And wandering around the space now were people who were far more in focus than other people. And not just because dream me wasn't wearing her glasses.
So I went wandering around this hall trying to find the ever tempting book for sale shelves again. And I walked past all sorts of conversations. But the one that absolutely cracked me up was a Dalek talking with a slightly less recogniseable charming-evil voice about the problems of minions, and unionising. Or possibly nationalising, if I heard right between laughing, which is a whole other thing...
So I was laughing so hard I could hardly stand up, which even to bystanders seemed something of an over reaction, but a nice person from the nearest stall offered to help me. I waved him off a bit and said I was fine, but he pointed out an open space near the fire exit next to his displays, and I slid down onto the floor in it, being careful to stay clear of the door. ... no blocking the fire exits.
His stall was all display cases with little figurines in, and was sort of Games Workshop, only not branded. I imagine such things have a whole constituency who would be happy sighs at the thought of That One Figure that went away or never reached production, but I'm not one of them, so it's all one to me and I can't really remember much of it.
But the guy helping out on the stall was my best friend from high school, and by the time I wandered back to John the only thing I'd got from the whole place was his phone number on the back of my hand.
John pouted when he saw it. He took my hand when I got back and then saw the numbers, ran his thumb over them, and pouted and made pretty face at me. I said not to worry, it wasn't like that, just an old friend. And he'd been ever so polite and stood in the exit while he wrote it, like to say it wasn't part of that whole exchange.
Still, I strongly suspect John blurred the numbers out. Just in case.
So I was back with him with an empty bag, and I gave him all the cash, in case he needed it, because I hadn't after all. And he still had all that paper and a bunch of books, but I reminded him we're human, and therefore need some basic biology taking care of. And he did need reminding. But with my rather impressive reminders right there he could get up, coat retrieved, and walk out with me.
Which of course is when I woke up, quite pleased with myself.
Well done dream self, A+ supernatural debt entanglement avoidance there.
Not sleeping with John in the first place, of course, that's a terrible idea, that always works out complicated. Starts fun, ends with screaming, and there's hell to pay for someone eventually. But... *kind of waves at all of John Constantine*. So, I know. *sighs*
But the bits actually in the dream could hardly have gone better.
And I know I didn't keep the phone number, but high school people are about the only ones I know on Facebook, so I can ping him there.
But now I'm wondering if Constantine took advantage of the really big pocket on his way out. I mean, it's John, it's the tangliest thing he could have done, so let's face it, he would do. But really...
*sigh*
I'd been spending time with John Constantine in a vigorous yet relaxing recreational capacity, and after, we went for a stroll around the back of my place.
Only it wasn't the boring road and rail there is in real life, it was the old trees and a promising looking hint of distant river, and right behind the building, a water tower. But not one of the admittedly cool looking concrete ufo ones. A soaring brick dealie with a green copper roof. Lovely looking thing. And down among the arches there was a Library.
It had the loveliest inviting curves of bookcase filled with hardcovers all gleaming gold highlights. You just knew it had all kinds of everything back there.
So John, holding my hand, wanders up to the place. And I am greeted by a bustling older lady who seems the very type of Librarian, and quite cheered to see me... but looks at John like, *stare*, *sigh*. He was giving it the charming chat but you very much got the impression she had heard it all before.
He was not allowed in in his coat. The tan trenchcoat. Nope.
But Librarian lady loaned him one of my garments and he could go in like that. It was my black fuzzy hoodie with the big pocket. He does not look quite himself in a black fuzzy hoodie with a big pocket. But needs must.
So he goes in and I have to wait outside, where lot of people are waiting, so it's quite interesting, but I don't talk to anyone cause I'm me. But pretty quick after that I am allowed in, if I wear my blue robe with the snowflakes. It is also fuzzy, but it's much more wizardy, as I tell John when I catch up with him.
He's sat at a table with books and books open before him, very concerned concentrate. All the books look sort of raggedy, not just well read but with pages torn out, and there's heaps of photocopies stuffed in to replace them. I start trying to put them in proper order but some of them are stapled together. And there's no knowing half the time if they're in the right book, the edges having been lost in the copying, and only indifferently handwritten in. So his research, it goes like stress study dreams I have had, and I decide to leave him to it.
But I ask if there's books for sale in here too, and he suddenly pays very sharp attention, asking what I'm planning to pay for them with. And I say cash, with a subtext of duh. So he relaxes and smiles again, and even gives me back some cash I'd loaned him earlier, when I was feeling especial goodwill towards men, or a least this one. So I'm quite well supplied, and once aimed at the for sale shelves, I go off with a bag to fill.
I start by trying to find dead authors, with the intent of getting the next one in the series. Because whatever John thinks I'm not mundane enough I've missed what manner of place this is, and it's worth a try. And I find one right away, and it's an anthology with a bunch of people who I'd buy right away anywhere, but, it's library book. On a shelf of library books. All wrapped in library wrappers. And I very much do not have a library card, so I would have to stay he to read it. So I make sad face and sigh, and put it back without so much as peeking inside the cover. (Sorry.)
The anthology name was Gods and Monsters, and when I turn around the displays have reconfigured and now seem mostly on that theme. The big shelves to my left had a lot of face out books with Sin in the title. Further along on my right there were tables set out like convention artists, with names and explains I was vaguely surprised weren't all in classical languages. And wandering around the space now were people who were far more in focus than other people. And not just because dream me wasn't wearing her glasses.
So I went wandering around this hall trying to find the ever tempting book for sale shelves again. And I walked past all sorts of conversations. But the one that absolutely cracked me up was a Dalek talking with a slightly less recogniseable charming-evil voice about the problems of minions, and unionising. Or possibly nationalising, if I heard right between laughing, which is a whole other thing...
So I was laughing so hard I could hardly stand up, which even to bystanders seemed something of an over reaction, but a nice person from the nearest stall offered to help me. I waved him off a bit and said I was fine, but he pointed out an open space near the fire exit next to his displays, and I slid down onto the floor in it, being careful to stay clear of the door. ... no blocking the fire exits.
His stall was all display cases with little figurines in, and was sort of Games Workshop, only not branded. I imagine such things have a whole constituency who would be happy sighs at the thought of That One Figure that went away or never reached production, but I'm not one of them, so it's all one to me and I can't really remember much of it.
But the guy helping out on the stall was my best friend from high school, and by the time I wandered back to John the only thing I'd got from the whole place was his phone number on the back of my hand.
John pouted when he saw it. He took my hand when I got back and then saw the numbers, ran his thumb over them, and pouted and made pretty face at me. I said not to worry, it wasn't like that, just an old friend. And he'd been ever so polite and stood in the exit while he wrote it, like to say it wasn't part of that whole exchange.
Still, I strongly suspect John blurred the numbers out. Just in case.
So I was back with him with an empty bag, and I gave him all the cash, in case he needed it, because I hadn't after all. And he still had all that paper and a bunch of books, but I reminded him we're human, and therefore need some basic biology taking care of. And he did need reminding. But with my rather impressive reminders right there he could get up, coat retrieved, and walk out with me.
Which of course is when I woke up, quite pleased with myself.
Well done dream self, A+ supernatural debt entanglement avoidance there.
Not sleeping with John in the first place, of course, that's a terrible idea, that always works out complicated. Starts fun, ends with screaming, and there's hell to pay for someone eventually. But... *kind of waves at all of John Constantine*. So, I know. *sighs*
But the bits actually in the dream could hardly have gone better.
And I know I didn't keep the phone number, but high school people are about the only ones I know on Facebook, so I can ping him there.
But now I'm wondering if Constantine took advantage of the really big pocket on his way out. I mean, it's John, it's the tangliest thing he could have done, so let's face it, he would do. But really...
*sigh*
no subject
Date: 2018-02-01 04:46 pm (UTC)