these tarts of pop

i had another rupert dream last night. oy.

this time, we were on some kind of game show. like the kooky japanese ones you see on banzai. he was on the show for a raising money for a charity, and i was his partner.

wtf. idek.

anyway, there was this one part where we had to swing on a rope from this one platform waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay over to this rubbery wall on the other side without falling into a ginormous pit of vanilla ice cream.

BRB PAGING DR. FREUD

the thing is, you have to swing on this rope together. there's a little base that you're both supposed to stand on -- so little that the contestants have to be basically wrapped around each other to fit on it. and you have to cooperate with each other, so you've gotta swing alternately to build up the momentum to get you swinging hard enough that you can get to the other side. and then you have to jump off together.

so rupert leans back...pushes forward, and then i do the same. we go back and forth like this for a few minutes and get a pretty good rhythm going. eventually i have to close my eyes, because all i can see is rupert smiling at me and he's got his arms around me and one of his legs is sort of wedged between mine and i can't concentrate because my heart has pretty much burst out of my chest from beating so hard.

and let's not forget that each time we lean forward/push back we bump pelviseseses. O_O

so i'm pretty much goo on this rope and then he says, "come on, we should do it now." and i'm all, "guhfwaffle?" and he goes, "on my say-so we're gonna jump, okay?" i grip the rope in my hands and go, "no effing way." and he's like, "don't you trust me?" i say, "i trust you -- it's the gravity that makes me leery." so he says, "well, if we don't make it, then we just fall in ice cream, and that's not so bad, right?"

i nod, and he grabs my hand and says, "okay, go!" and we jump. we go flying over this pit and he's still holding my hand and i can't even breathe, and then we hit the rubber wall and bounce off down to the even more rubbery floor.

i'm on my back, and he rolls over so that he's not quite on top of me and he says, "see? i told you we'd make it." i can't say anything, of course, so i just nod. and then.

he lays this ridiculously soft kiss on me. like, so soft that i'm not even sure that it happened. and then he does it again.

and i'm like, "what are you doing?" and he says, "i promised myself i'd kiss you if we made it -- kind of an incentive." he flashes that reason-obliterating grin at me and kisses me once more...

and then my stupid alarm went off and messed everything up. hmph.

i'm insane.

Last night I had a dream that I was in a movie with Matthew Goode. I played an actress living in London during the late 1940s and Matthew's character, a newspaper reporter, sees me in a cafe' and decides that he simply must have me.

We meet and get pathetically swoony over each other, despite everyone telling us to knock it off because I'm black and he's white. And then we have loud and extremely lewd sex.

Mary Sue wish fulfillment much?

Christ. :palmface:

So. I had this dream.

Tom Felton -- not Tom!Draco, but the actor himself -- and I had gone to an art gallery. I couldn't tell you why we were together in the first place, but it was a dream, and generally I tend not to linger too long on logistics in dreams.

Anyway, Tom is interested in buying a painting for his new flat...I suppose we were in the UK. I keep telling him not to choose anything having to do with fish, because that's what people would expect him to get. You know. Cuz he fishes and shtuff.

We're walking around for a while, and we both start to get tired -- this gallery is ginormous. And kind of Escher-esque. It's weird. I tell him that my knee is starting to hurt, so he picks me up and carries me on his back. We make our way up a flight of stairs, and there are these two paintings on the wall that I really like. They're companion pieces -- both use a lot of dark and light blues and black with faint white scratches. Very abstract and wicked cool (I can't believe I just said "wicked cool") and I tell Tom that he should get them. He tells me that he'll think about it, and we keep going upstairs.

We hit the second floor, and I tell him to put me down and I'll carry him. He does. So now I'm carrying Tom on my back (O_o) and we're perusing this new gallery floor. Tom tells me to stop at this one picture -- it's a simple sketch of the outline of a man's face on a white background. You can make out an angular jaw line, and this shock of white blond hair falling into the subject's eye. That's it. And Tom is fascinated by this picture. And the whole time, I'm thinking, "OMFG, my choice is so way better."

I let him down off of my back, and he looks at the label under the portrait. It's called "Bad Faith."

I turn to him and say, "Isn't that what Malfoy means?"

He goes, "Yeah! It's a little bit brilliant that way, don't you think?" I shrug. Then he says, "Come on, don't be like that. I'm going to get your paintings too, you know."

I tell him, "You'd better" and HE KISSES ME ON THE NOSE. FTW.

;lajkajskdflka;;alkaljs;alsakj

I don't remember anything after that, so I figure one of two things happened. Either I woke up, or I passed out in the dream because Tom Felton kissed me on my frakking nose.

So yeah. I have another dream with Tom Felton in it, and I can't get any further than a kiss on the nose. Even my dreams taunt me. ;_;

But the companion pieces I saw in my dream allowed me to start the front and back covers for a R/D fanmix that mightyafrodite and I are putting together. XD

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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*