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May. 26th, 2009 10:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
adiva_calandiaSo I woke up at about 7 AM this morning, as I generally do with the big east-facing window in my room, and then went back to sleep for an hour around 9.
And I had a dream where I was working desperately on homework in a computer lab, and then a bunch of people I knew from high school started putting on a play in the computer lab, and I was so excited, and then my mother came in and told me that we were leaving, now, with the implication that she didn't approve of the play and she definitely didn't approve of me watching it when I was doing homework.
So we left, and the next thing I remember is that I was out walking someplace that was this weird combination of Pittsburgh and, like, Iowa. There was a brief music video interlude involving Paul McCartney sitting in a field on a huge spinning fake record with an ad for some barn-raising or something -- and then it returned to me walking and I saw, across a field that had recently been planted with wheat or corn that was only just sprouting, Paul McCartney, sitting on a huge spinning fake record, in a field. Young Paul; he got older over the course of the dream.
So I ran across the sprouts -- thinking to myself that this was kind of romantic, running across a cornfield, and maybe I should mention that to him as a conversational starter, "Listen, I just ran across a cornfield to come talk to you and ask you something, so you have to at least give me a minute. How many times in your life does a girl run across a cornfield just to talk to you?"
Turned out I didn't need it. I came up, asked if he wanted a push on the spinny thing, gave him one when he said yes, and hopped on myself. We rode for a little while. It was like riding a tire swing. Very fun. (At one point, I was sharing the spinny thing with Ringo, not Paul, but it was only for a moment.)
Finally we both got tired of getting dizzy and got off the spinny thing. I introduced myself; he introduced himself as Paul and shook my hand. He had a terrible handshake, clammy and limp, but no matter. He laughed and thanked me for acting like I didn't already know his name.
We started walking and talking, through a sudden surge of people that were apparently staff and extras in the music video that the giant spinning record had been built for. I don't remember what we talked about, but we wandered pretty far -- through a white marble building that could've been anything from a church to a hotel to a mall to a very classy high school, with water running in front of it, and through the parking lot of a real strip mall, and I think into more fields. Maybe not in that precise order.
Eventually, I regretfully told him I had to go home because I had so much homework, and we started retracing our steps. We walked through the white marble building with his arm around my shoulder and my arm around his waist, comfortably, father-and-daughterly. We had to descend a steep ramp with stairs built in, all very modern and industrial looking, with a kid's play center sort of feel to it. I was hanging on to a series of unevenly spaced handles to help me down, and at one point the ramp somehow disappeared from under me. Paul was still on it, but the only things helping me downward were the handles and Paul. I went down like I was climbing at a rock gym, practically floating -- the closest I've ever yet come to a flying dream.
When we got to the bottom we went through the strip mall parking lot, and Paul asked me if I knew my way home. I told him cheerfully that as long as we got back to where we started, I could get home, and that if I got lost, I had my cell phone. He burst out laughing and started miming calling on a pay phone -- which somehow turned into this weird, though entertaining, skit with a little Japanese kid calling home on a pay phone. I got distracted by watching that, and Paul went on ahead.
I nearly lost him. When I realized he'd moved on, I ran after him, towards train tracks. I heard a man joining his party as I passed; they asked him "How was it?" and he beamed, "Sergeant Pepper, man!" from which I deduced that Paul had given a concert at some point prior to meeting me.
I finally found him, and I was going to tell him something and walk home, maybe even invite him home for dinner, but then I woke up and I couldn't remember what exactly was going to happen next.
A pleasant dream, all told, if thoroughly weird. I think there was a bit where Paul started talking about always quoting songs, and quoted a line about walking a mile, and then shouted, "And the worst part is I hate that opera!" and I came to the conclusion that he was talking about "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" from American Idiot, but I didn't have the nerve to ask him. That was right before we started going down the ramp, so I had other things to worry about.
And I had a dream where I was working desperately on homework in a computer lab, and then a bunch of people I knew from high school started putting on a play in the computer lab, and I was so excited, and then my mother came in and told me that we were leaving, now, with the implication that she didn't approve of the play and she definitely didn't approve of me watching it when I was doing homework.
So we left, and the next thing I remember is that I was out walking someplace that was this weird combination of Pittsburgh and, like, Iowa. There was a brief music video interlude involving Paul McCartney sitting in a field on a huge spinning fake record with an ad for some barn-raising or something -- and then it returned to me walking and I saw, across a field that had recently been planted with wheat or corn that was only just sprouting, Paul McCartney, sitting on a huge spinning fake record, in a field. Young Paul; he got older over the course of the dream.
So I ran across the sprouts -- thinking to myself that this was kind of romantic, running across a cornfield, and maybe I should mention that to him as a conversational starter, "Listen, I just ran across a cornfield to come talk to you and ask you something, so you have to at least give me a minute. How many times in your life does a girl run across a cornfield just to talk to you?"
Turned out I didn't need it. I came up, asked if he wanted a push on the spinny thing, gave him one when he said yes, and hopped on myself. We rode for a little while. It was like riding a tire swing. Very fun. (At one point, I was sharing the spinny thing with Ringo, not Paul, but it was only for a moment.)
Finally we both got tired of getting dizzy and got off the spinny thing. I introduced myself; he introduced himself as Paul and shook my hand. He had a terrible handshake, clammy and limp, but no matter. He laughed and thanked me for acting like I didn't already know his name.
We started walking and talking, through a sudden surge of people that were apparently staff and extras in the music video that the giant spinning record had been built for. I don't remember what we talked about, but we wandered pretty far -- through a white marble building that could've been anything from a church to a hotel to a mall to a very classy high school, with water running in front of it, and through the parking lot of a real strip mall, and I think into more fields. Maybe not in that precise order.
Eventually, I regretfully told him I had to go home because I had so much homework, and we started retracing our steps. We walked through the white marble building with his arm around my shoulder and my arm around his waist, comfortably, father-and-daughterly. We had to descend a steep ramp with stairs built in, all very modern and industrial looking, with a kid's play center sort of feel to it. I was hanging on to a series of unevenly spaced handles to help me down, and at one point the ramp somehow disappeared from under me. Paul was still on it, but the only things helping me downward were the handles and Paul. I went down like I was climbing at a rock gym, practically floating -- the closest I've ever yet come to a flying dream.
When we got to the bottom we went through the strip mall parking lot, and Paul asked me if I knew my way home. I told him cheerfully that as long as we got back to where we started, I could get home, and that if I got lost, I had my cell phone. He burst out laughing and started miming calling on a pay phone -- which somehow turned into this weird, though entertaining, skit with a little Japanese kid calling home on a pay phone. I got distracted by watching that, and Paul went on ahead.
I nearly lost him. When I realized he'd moved on, I ran after him, towards train tracks. I heard a man joining his party as I passed; they asked him "How was it?" and he beamed, "Sergeant Pepper, man!" from which I deduced that Paul had given a concert at some point prior to meeting me.
I finally found him, and I was going to tell him something and walk home, maybe even invite him home for dinner, but then I woke up and I couldn't remember what exactly was going to happen next.
A pleasant dream, all told, if thoroughly weird. I think there was a bit where Paul started talking about always quoting songs, and quoted a line about walking a mile, and then shouted, "And the worst part is I hate that opera!" and I came to the conclusion that he was talking about "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" from American Idiot, but I didn't have the nerve to ask him. That was right before we started going down the ramp, so I had other things to worry about.
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no subject
Date: 2009-05-26 07:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-05-26 09:32 pm (UTC)