In My Dreams

At last that awful awful course is finally over. Well its been over for a few weeks actually, but I've been busy then with things like house administration and painting trees. Do you have any idea how much hard work it is to paint trees? It's a lot. And then the horrid thing is coming back in a few more weeks too.

But for the time being its gone, so I can get back to the nice cheery happy post I was going to do. It's times like these when I wonder if maybe I should start up another blog for all the not-so-happy things, but then it would probably be just an endless stream of grim observations and gloomy morbid attempts at something resembling poetry, and I'd probably get all kinds of flack for it, because apparently in this day and age happiness is mandatory, citizen.

So in the meantime I'll take the Princess Unikitty approach.

Anyway, before I got rudely interrupted, I was going to post about a dream I had. Because said dream involved literature. I no longer remember what happened for most of it, but what I do remember is how it ended.

It was at night, and I was with.. someone else (who it was I no longer remember). We had just come in from a long drive along the coast, and were now in the lounge area of a large building, being warmly treated by our hosts, who as it just so happened were characters from JK Rowling's books. It was never quite made clear exactly which ones they were, but they were of the 'magic' using sort. Shortly after making their acquaintance I casually let slip that, while not an enthusiast of the series they were from, I had nothing against them personally.

Then they got mad.

At once the patriarch of the group (he was male and appeared to be the leader, and was a portly sort of fellow) bellowed with rage, and a number of his subordinates pinned me down while the whole bunch of them attempted to sacrifice me to Satan by driving one of their wands through my heart. I kid you not, this was their actual plan and intent, the point that one of them actually yelled out "Sacrifice him to Satan!!". And these were meant to be the regular sort of Rowling characters too, not the goffik sort.

Fortunately in the same dream I had the ability of superhuman strength, and so managed to fight them off with a variety of flashy and showy flips, tosses and body slams right out of a professional wrestling show. Which is odd because I've never seen one of them in my life, so I have no idea where my subconscious got the idea from.

It was at this point that they started to panic, and attempted to sacrifice two other captives, both young ladies, to Satan in order to gain more power with which to defeat me. One of the intended sacrifices was even one of their own number, that they turned on like the pack of bastards that they were. Ultimately however I was able to rescue them, and sent them of running to safety, before turning to finish up the evil Rowling characters.

It was at that point that I woke up.

And so that is now why I have one more reason not to like Rowling's books: the characters in them tried to murder me.

In other news the next librarything will be on the 10th of July. What's happing at it? Who knows, not I. There'll probably be sugar though.

Heh heh. Dreams are funny..

Exunt