a conspiracy of cartographers

This is a post about dreams I had, and therefore completely self-indulgent and not terribly interesting! But for reasons unknown, I don't just keep a DW for posting about dreams. (Maybe I should! But then I would have to admit to keeping a dream journal, and from there it is an inevitable slide into becoming my mother.) Anyway.

I finally had the Supernatural dream I've been expecting to have for a few months now, by which I mean a dream in which HORRIBLE SCARY THINGS. Except my brain insulated me from this by making it an anxiety dream of Dean's. By which I mean, I dreamed I was teenage Dean Winchester, and Sammy and I were staying in this place with bunk beds, and Sam had the top bunk. I'm going around making sure everything is secure, and when I get to the ... floating balloon full of holy water ... it breaks, and I realize the thing in the top bunk isn't Sam, but is actually a red-lit, static-y-special-effects, snarling and clawed demonic beasty, which realizes it's been made and leaps on me. So I kick at it ineffectually and wonder frantically what the hell happened to Sammy and start yelling for Dad, which is pretty stupid because obviously he's not anywhere close by.

And then I briefly woke up? And instead of being traumatized I was entertained, because the beasty was only normal episode levels of HORRIBLE SCARY, and apparently my brain wants to give me the Dean Winchester Experience.

Of course then I fell back asleep and dreamed that I was Sam this time, because my brain believes in equal character time? And in this dream we were investigating something in a creepy old asylum, and nothing jumped out at us, but Dean and I did spend a hilariously large amount of time gazing soulfully at each other and really wanting to kiss, but not actually kissing because of reasons that Dean seemed pretty clear on but I was quite skeptical about.

In conclusion, NO MORE SUPERNATURAL FANFIC FOR ME, this is kind of ridiculous. Instead I will work on my Yuletide! It is only 900 words right now, but it is 900 words that I am fairly happy with.

+ The response I've already got to the Loki fic is making me clutch my face with glee. It is magical to be in an active fandom. (It is also magical to know there are lots of people who share my Loki FEELINGS.) Now I just have to convince myself that not everything needs a plot, and that it is okay if I write Sif/Darcy without apology. I also have to convince myself that I am capable of writing Tony Stark, but this may, in fact, be a lie.

+ Speaking of Starks, I have the first episode of Game of Thrones sitting on my computer. Taunting me. Daring me to watch it, even though I have an inner voice wailing that I shouldn't dare watch it without reading the books first. Shut up, little voice, you coped with True Blood, you can cope with this. (Oh HBO, why you gotta keep half-seducing me into watching bits of your shows.)

+ I cannot stop listening to the gay mutant disco love song from the First Class credits. It has become the soundtrack in my mind. I am having such a strange relationship with First Class fandom! Like, on the one hand Erik/Charles is my pairing type FOREVER, and I am so, so glad that it has suddenly become fandom's thing du jour. On the other hand, the more I think about the film the more issues I have with a bunch of its basic structures and assumptions, and navigating unknown fic is a minefield of avoiding Holocaust-related hurt/comfort or the assumption that Charles is actually a good and correct person, oh god how many times have I hit the back button. On the mutant (haha) third hand, a lot of excellent writers and people I know are doing so, so right by it, and so I keep reading fic, and feeling mildly bewildered, and listening to the gay mutant disco love song yet again.

+ I went to see Midnight in Paris yesterday. It is unutterably charming, you guys. I have a low tolerance for Woody Allen films, but this one was great. I originally went to see it on the promise of Tom Hiddleston as F. Scott Fitzgerald, and he was indeed pretty delightful (although oh god he had an American accent, cognitive dissonance, WHAT IS HAPPENING) but the best part was actually Ernest Hemingway, who had me basically rolling in my seat laughing. If you like jokes about 1920s writers, watch the hell out of this.

+ I seem to be rereading American Gods; this is great fun, because I get to clutch my face and cackle when it talks about Shadow's cellmate Low Key and his scarred smile, and also I keep going, "Oh, ODIN," when no one is in the room. But I think I should warn you all: don't read Neil Gaiman late at night. Just don't do it. I used to know this, but last night I foolishly forgot, and for my transgression I dreamed that I was Shadow and had to talk with Laura while she was a half-decayed corpse; I was pretty chill about this, but there was SCREAMING INSIDE, believe me. Why you gotta do this, brain? I would have taken Aziraphale and Crowley over this. I would've taken Loki over this! Oh well. In conclusion, Neil Gaiman, late nights, no. I imagine this applies even harder if the reading in question is Sandman.

+ ...I am really tempted to watch a trio of Xena episodes in which, wiki tells me, Xena is Odin's most feared Valkyrie, Gabrielle hangs out with Brunhilda, Xena helps Beowulf defeat Grendel and ends up married to Hrothgar, and then there is girlkissing. On the other hand, if I try to watch it I might actually start laughing too hard to see.

AHAHAHA WHAT.

Occasionally I have incredibly vivid dreams. This one is full of excruciating detail and lots of absurdity, but since I woke up about an hour ago and I still remember the whole thing, I think I am going to record it for myself.

( Cut for length and dream inanity/absurdity. In which Aria goes to the opera, wears a top hat, and discovers that Highlander is awkwardly taking over her brain. )

Enough of that nonsense. Time for some s3 Avatar over breakfast!

Wow, I had a weird and vivid dream last night. First I was Merlin -- the boy wizard, not the awesome old man -- and I was swimming across a lake along with Arthur and Uther (?!); on the other side I met Morgause in a public washroom, and she tried to convince me that Uther must die. But I'd seen that episode many, many times, so I went off and discovered that Kolya was trying to take over Atlantis, as he often does. Obviously at this point I stopped being Merlin and became John Sheppard; then me and Kolya had close hand-to-hand combat with knives! I got stabbed in the side, which hurt like hell but did not much bother me because I was John Sheppard, so instead I stabbed Kolya in the hand. [My friend down the hall, upon hearing a recount of this dream: "There were knives, and you got stabbed in the side?" Me, knowing where this was going: "I was Sheppard at the time! It meant homoeroticism, not pregnancy." My friend, in delight: "That's a sentence that should be said all the time."] Anyway, Kolya called a forty-minute break to regroup, and I went downstairs to the dining deck of the cruise ship because I'd gotten turned around; really I was trying to find Ursula K Le Guin, because she was running the convention and had bandages (???). I knew that if I went back upstairs to fight Kolya again, I was absolutely going to die, but I'd be saving everyone in the process, so that was all right. Also, by the time I made this determination I ... may have been Fraser, because apparently I ascribe them similar worrying motivations. Then I started drifting awake, and was deeply annoyed because I still wanted to die and save the world! What is this even.

Perhaps relatedly, some results from yesterday's poll:

John Sheppard & Ray Kowalski: 8
John Sheppard & Benton Fraser: 7
Rodney McKay & Benton Fraser: 6
Rodney McKay & Ray Kowalski: 5

I am not able to make any exciting sweeping conclusions (nor would I even if the numbers were much more skewed, because this is a skientific poll, not a scientific one); the only one I will venture to draw is that wow, we as a fandom must really love experimental hair. Also, despite being a John girl myself, I'm sad that there's not more Rodney love. I'm pleased to see that it's horrendously difficult to choose between Fraser and Ray, though.

Now enough of this nonsense.

Another round of the Home Team Awesome Women Vote-Off! Pretty much all the women here are awesome; I had a couple quiet wails of despair when I saw things like Luna vs Brennan or, god help me, Martha vs Eowyn -- because, you see, Martha and Eowyn are contenders for a spot in my top five or so fictional crushes, and they fight and they win, and I want them to save the world together, and now that I have thought through the parallels I would be very happy if Tom Milligan was the Who universe's Faramir. In any case, go vote! Molly Weasley is losing out to M, of which I approve because M is a magical being whose awesomeness trumps everything (yes, even Martha and Eowyn and probably Zoe), and Kara Thrace is losing out to Elizabeth Bennet, which makes me think that possibly a lot of the people voting are more familiar with Austen than with BSG, although Elizabeth is pretty awesome, and now I kind of want Pride & Prejudice in space. I am not sure who is Darcy, but I am pretty sure it is not Leoben. Maybe Anders. Or something.

Vaguely speaking of, I had a dream that CKR found my blog and wrote me a fucking essay in response. (What's up with this? Last time there was a Home Team vote I dreamed I was having an affair with Paul Gross. And I haven't had any comparable dreams in the intervening time. Anyway!) It started out quoting the Lord of the Rings in Elvish and talked about outer space!! and it was actually a very sweet letter but I didn't read all of it because I was terrified of getting to the part where he'd be all "Oh, and then I read your Ray Kowalski porn." And I just. What. I think I need a new fandom. Mumble mumble I'm going to get some breakfast and listen to Hugh Dillon on the bus. /o\

Whiling away the morning reading the Bunny Comics archive instead of getting breakfast and watching more due South: the world is smaller than you think. (I would say I am starting to get an actual collection of Mountie comics, but I do not think one bunny and two from Hark! A Vagrant actually count.)

I dreamed that a bunch of Cthulhu's lesser relatives appeared unto the people to tell of the return of the Elder Gods; I had to run away from a bunch of horrible things and tried to get them to stop chasing me by throwing dirt at them, but they laughed at me and told me that when Cthulhu came it would eat me slowly with unbearable torment. I record this because, uh, it wasn't ... actually a nightmare, it was a perfectly ordinary-feeling dream, and I am kind of bewildered because I never even think a little bit about the Lovecraft mythos unless I am reading something of Neil Gaiman's in that universe. I was completely disoriented when I woke out of that to the due South theme on my iPod, though.

(Seriously, could I get a show of hands? I want to know if anyone else's subconscious thinks Cthulhu is a good subject for dreams.)