Bad smells, strange dreams

[smokingboot]

Or, how to give yourself the mother of all headaches.

Eat nicely cooked trout. Pootle around with the bones until your hands smell nasty. Try to wash it off and fail, even when using terrifying antibacterial-antibiological-on-the-verge-of-bleach type soap. Then try to disguise it with what is normally a sophisticated whiff of Dolce&Gabbana, and turns out to be a hooting hosedown. Spend the rest of the evening avoiding close embraces with other people and trying not to pass out.

Cue strange vivid dreams.



In my dream I was with Carrie sans LJ somewhere in Scotland. We went into a library/new age/goddess centre where two lovely women showed us around. One, with a big smile on her face, showed me a whole bundle of papers, a play I had (hand)written and forgotten a long time ago. Apparently it was a good play, successful. They keep copies of everything.

Then I was looking towards the top of a mountainside as twilight fell, and strange mists and little lights dotted the landscape. We went up by cablecar (shades of Aonach Mor there) and when we got to the top, we found a place that was both an ancient hostelry and a modern coffee shop. We saw paulbenwell there, looking very elegantly dressed, and either roleplaying or preparing to roleplay.

In the coffee shop was a former acquaintance of no generous intent. He spoke across the room mildly, as though he was trying to be polite. I did not understand what he was up to, so I kept quiet and let his comments be taken by the group as addressed to all. My quandary (unshared by the others) was that I did not want to return down the mountain the same way. He turned to me directly and said there was no need to go back in the cable car; that there was a city on the other side of the mountain, full of winding streets and interesting things which would take me round and back if I wanted. It sounded fascinating, but I would not normally expect this person to be even remotely helpful, rather the reverse. Why was he giving me the information at all? Was he hoping I would go down into the city and get mugged? Still, I was interested in the new/old city and a different route. So I stood and pondered, while the dream faded.

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[november-girl.livejournal.com]

In future, rubbing your hands with a freshly peeled potato should do it.