Archive for the ‘dreams’ Category

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Last night I dreamed George Lucas tried to convince me to quit my job and sign as his assistant for a few months while he filmed some movie here in Connecticut. I refused to quit, but agreed to work for him around my other schedule. He told me I was sassy, and said it would be okay.

(George Lucas said I was sassy. Yes. I know it was just a dream. Shut up and let me have my moment.)

In other news, I decided to prioritize my to-be-read books by size, and Sophie has not hissed at Zoro in several days.

I really, really like the shirt he’s wearing.


And by size I mean actual physical size, not length. I piled them largest to smallest, and I shall read the top one first. Once I finish the four I’m reading now.

Which doesn’t even include my e-books. We won’t even go there.


you take the good, you take the bad   Leave a comment

I was dreaming that I had a horrible cold and was having trouble breathing. Then the dream changed a little, and there was something, though I don’t remember exactly what, with Mrs. Garrett and Jo, (although I’m pretty sure they were dressed as scouts from Attack on Titan) and then I could breath again.

As I began to surface towards waking, my head felt heavy, and I took a deep breath to find that my chest felt heavy, too. I lay there in the dark thinking I probably was catching a cold or something. There’s always something going around. Yeah, that’s it. My chest feels heavy because I’m coming down with a chest cold. Right.

Until a slightly unfriendly paw tried to pull the blankets off me.


And just because I know you were wondering, I spent a good ten minutes making this for you…


Don’t ever argue with the Big Dog…   Leave a comment

Early this morning I had a dream of a faceoff between Dean Winchester and U.S. Marshal Sam Gerard.

Dean was teamed with Martha Jones.

And they were dressed like Ghostbusters.


“Alright, listen up, people. Our fugitives have been on the run for ninety minutes. Average foot speed over uneven ground barring injuries is 4 miles-per-hour. That gives us a radius of six miles. What I want from each and every one of you is a hard-target search of every gas station, residence, warehouse, farmhouse, henhouse, outhouse and doghouse in that area. Checkpoints go up at fifteen miles. Your fugitives names are Dean Winchester and Dr. Martha Jones. Go get ’em.”

biggs and gerard

dean cute
“That’s cute.”

I can’t believe I dreamed a meme   2 comments

So I was having this dream last night.

There was a bunch of stuff before that I vaguely think was about people at work, and someone saying quite urgently, “No, no, come look at this,” when I was in the bathroom stall.

But then I started dreaming about Harry Potter. In my dream he had three friends. No idea who there were, but they weren’t Ron and Hermione and Neville. And in my dream someone had cast a spell on Harry that turned him into a bearded dragon, but only for short periods of time. When the spell wore off he’d turn back into himself.

The dream ended abruptly just as someone, trying to be mean, tossed the bearded dragon down into a hole in the floor, and bearded dragon Harry was trapped under the floor with the spell about to wear off.

So I wake up, and for 3 or 4 seconds try to decide how the dream would have ended, whether someone would find him and get him out in the that last split second before he turned human, or whether he would turn into Harry while still underneath the floor and BURST through the floorboards when it suddenly hit me:


And I started giggling so hard I startled the sleeping cat and I nearly rolled off the bed onto the floor.

yer a lizard harry

#turkeyproblems   Leave a comment

So I dreamed I had a pet turkey. I bought him a unicycle, and he loved it. He would tool around the back yard like nobody’s business. And I watched him and got kind of depressed, thinking about when he grew too big for his little unicycle, and couldn’t ride it anymore, how sad he would be….

#turkeyproblems #rollonmyturkeyfriend


Posted July 2, 2014 by Fran LaPlaca in daily, dreams

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The Monkey King   Leave a comment

So I just had this dream that we’d been invaded by vicious, killer dinosaurs, and the only way to survive was to summon the King of the Monkeys.

monkey king
(Jet Li as the Monkey King)

To summon him, you had to press a series of around 200 hieroglyphs in a specific order. Once you pressed one correctly it disappeared, but many of them were very similar. If you pressed one wrong they would all disappear and our chance for survival would be gone.

So I’m pressing these things and 2 little monkeys who were my partners saw what I was doing. One took objection, since the King of the Monkeys was not to be summoned lightly. He tried to stop me, and my finger almost touched the wrong picture.

2little monkeys

But just then a velociraptor wandered by (terrifying, but thankfully he didn’t see us) And suddenly the little guy was on my side, helping me choose the right pictures and shaking like a leaf in terror.


We finished the summoning procedure and the Monkey King arrived from outer space very dramatically.

Let me repeat that.

(that must be a really bad SF movie somewhere)

He killed all the dinosaurs except the big boss and then died, leaving the boss battle to us.

Then I woke up, which I choose to interpret as WINNING THE BOSS BATTLE.

Oh, and at some point earlier the mean older brother from Home Alone was the first person eaten by the dinosaurs.


All in all a very oddly satisfying dream.

And here’s a picture of Harry Connick, Jr., for purely selfish reasons.

Harry Connick Jr.

BRAD PITT   Leave a comment

Last night I dreamed about my friend Joanne. She’s a teacher, but in my dream she was a nurse. The two of us and two of her nurse friends and BRAD PITT were walking to the hospital to get a key, and we stopped to rest. (It was all uphill.) Joanne got mad at me wanting to take a break, so she and her two nurse friends went ahead to look at a bear that was in a fenced-in area just ahead, and BRAD PITT and I promised to catch up soon.

Suddenly we heard loud sounds, and a bear came rolling down the hill. A very dead bear. The sounds continued and we (me and BRAD PITT) realized the sounds came from a machine gun, and we (BRAD PITT and me) took off running downhill to the edge of the river (I’m not sure if the river was there before this or not) We kept dodging and darting from bush to bush, and I kept yelling, “What about Joanne?” BRAD PITT reassured me that Joanne could take care of herself.

The sounds of the machine gun got louder and louder, and suddenly I woke up and realized the machine gun sounds came from the whirring of the fan on the dresser, highly magnified the way things can when they work into your dreams.

Where BRAD PITT came from I don’t recall. Nor where he went. But I learned not only that I can run downhill, (which I probably truly can’t) but that Joanne is, apparently, BRAD-PITT-kick-ass competent.

You go, Joanne. You go.

"Killing Them Softly" Photocall - 65th Annual Cannes Film Festival

Posted April 9, 2014 by Fran LaPlaca in daily, dreams

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