these tarts of pop

So I had this dream the other night.

I stepped out of my front door and ended up in Narnia. (I suspect this is because we had watched Chronicles the night before.) Anyway, yeah. I walk out and the lamppost is right there on the porch. I walk to the end of the porch where the steps normally are and I see that there is nothing but snowy, foresty stuff.

I say, "Well, I'm obviously dreaming. I think I'll go back to bed." So I make my way back to the front door, which is now closed.

I don't remember closing it, but it's all a dream, so I don't think too hard about it.

I reach for the doorknob, and just as I touch it, it's kind of ripped away from me as the door flies open. I decide to take the opportunity to head back in my house. As I step over the threshold, I'm hit by this huge black...flashy mass of some sort. It knocks me back so hard that I hit my head on the floor of the porch and make some snow fly back up into the air.

I hear the door slam shut again.

It takes me a minute to get myself together and while I'm doing this, I can hear someone muttering. I'm pretty sure it's not me. I finally sit up and see the black mass on the porch a few steps from me. It's turning around and around.

I get up on my knees, rub the back of my head (I can feel a lump coming up) and decide to investigate the black mass. I shuffle over to it and as I get closer I can see that the black is actually a piece of cloth or a blanket. I hear the muttering again, and because I'm closer, I can make out that the muttering is really a fantastic string of obscenities. And that the accent is unquestionably British.

¿Qué ?

It's still rutting around madly...like it's stuck in whatever cloth is draped over it.

Apparently, I'm much bolder in my dreams than in real life, because I have no fear in finding out whatever this mass...black...thing is. I reach over to it and touch the cloth. The mass beneath it stills. I pull the cloth off slowly and am quite surprised to reveal a head of silver blond hair. The cloth isn't just laying over the figure -- it's attached to it somehow. Like a cape.

The silver/platinum head is tucked down, so I lean down to see the face. "Are you okay?" I ask it.

"Of course I'm not fucking okay, you stupid bint!" The figure looks up and I'm staring into the face of Draco Malfoy (as played by Tom Felton, of course).

¿el infierno?

(Yes. I've managed to cross fandoms. I'll be going to the special hell when it's my time. But I already suspected that.)

I spit back, "Who the bloody fuck are you and what are you doing on my sodding porch?!" I've got a British accent as well. I don't understand it but I don't much care anymore.

So Malfoy stands up, after trying to comb his hair with his fingers (which only makes him look more ridiculous) and introduces himself. "I am Draco Malfoy of course, and you should be honored that I'm standing on your sodding porch!"

"Well, Taco Assboy, I'm The Grand Pooba of Upper-Butt Crack thankyouverymuch. Now sit the bloody fuck down before I jam my fingers into your nose and pull your hair out thru your nostrils." Apparently the look on my face must be something to behold, because he plops down unceremoniously on the porch. He sulks.

"Where the hell are we anyway," he pouts.

"Narnia, you asshat...see the lamppost?" I gesture to it. "And don't sulk. You already look like a bloody albino cockatoo as it is."

He looks at me and turns red, then at the lamppost. "And you know this because...?"

"Because it's in the sodding book! Don't you READ?"

---

That's the last I remember of it. Which sucks, 'cuz it probably would've been pretty good. And it just figures. I get Tom!Draco into my dreams and all we do is yell at each other.

*sigh*