One more thing: Dream Journal

[featherynscale]

It's night. I'm driving, and I pull up to a shop in Brookside. It's recently rained, and the neon signs are shining up from the puddles in the parking lot as much as down from the signs themselves. It's cool out, but not cold. This is important because for some reason I am here in nothing but a bra and panties.

I step into the shop. It sells sex toys, lingerie, and home electronics. Sort of a combination Love Nest and Best Buy. It's much larger on the inside than it was from the outside. There is a sales counter by the door, which looks like unto the sort one sees in sleazier sex shops; a pane of glass between clerk and customer. The clerk is an older woman in heavy makeup, smoking a cigarette. She looks at me funny, but shrugs, as if to say, "I get a lot of people in here in their skivvies, honey."

I wander through the store, until I find Ghede (a Ghede? I can never work out if he's a single lwa or a class of lwas. Anyway.). He's tall, bald, and well-muscled. His coffee-colored skin is covered in tattoos. He's wearing black leather pants and drinking rum from a bottle. He grins at me, and we are friends instantly. He throws some "clothes" at me - black velvet boxer-briefs and a spiderweb net shirt. I put them on, and we sit down to play some video games at a demo counter.

The game is one of the zombie-shooting variety, and Ghede thinks this is crazy funny. We're there for a very long time. He makes some commentary from time to time about whether some aspect or another of the game is right. He's pretty sure some of the gore is over the top. I'm pretty sure I'm going to sleep with him. It doesn't happen, though. I remember that I have somewhere to be. I apologize, and head out.

As I'm moving through the shop, I realize that I don't have any money, and am going to have to shoplift the clothes. I hold my head high as I pass the clerk. She is yelling at a kid, like a 12-year-old girl, who is trying to come in the shop. She doesn't see me as I leave. I get out to the car and briefly wonder where I put my keys, since I couldn't have possibly had them in my pocket when I went in the shop. Luckily (!?), my trunk is open, and the keys are sitting right there.

I drive to somewhere warm and bright. kittenpants, triadruid, and some other folks are there, waiting for me in a minivan. I hop in the van, still in my Ghede-clothes. kittenpants and one of the other people are talking about how KidSpace at Gaia Community had voted to disband, and we were going to have to just have the kids in the adult rituals all the time now. I thought this was a pretty crappy idea, but nobody asked me, and I don't have time to contribute to that conversation anyway, because triadruid has just noticed what I have on, and started to get all worked up about it.

We're driving by all of this sort of candy-colored Disney-World shit. triadruid is trying to talk me into fucking him in the van as we drive. I'm trying to work out whether that will piss off the other people in the van or not.

I'm saved the consideration by the sound of the alarm going off.

...And you say I don't tell you about the good ones!

Comments

Re: Rowr.

[featherynscale.livejournal.com]

Everything I know about voodoo I could fit in my left boot. So I appreciate the word.

Also, usually I am alarmed/annoyed/confused when other people's powers come knocking on my brain, but this fellow seemed like My Kind of People.

Re: Rowr.

[infintysquared.livejournal.com]

Ahh. Okay, I've done a modicum of Knowing Shit on the subject of Voudoun. I kind of assume that other folks know the same wide range of Random Stuff that I do, heh. It's made its way into my Shamanic totem in a frighteningly subtle manner, heh... Hamster has picked up elements of Baron Samedi as well as other tricksters.

I remember one time I was working at a gaming store that carried little tchotchkes, and we had a Baron Samedi bobblehead doll on display. One day my Ign'ant Fool radar unfortunately failed to ping on a customer, though... The guy's pointing at the Baron bobblehead, and hollers out at me, "YA KNOW WHAT THAT IS, SON?"
Nat'rally, I start into my pedantic monologue. "Yeh, that's Baron Samedi, loa of..."
And before I can get another word out, he hollers in my face again, "THAT'S VEW-DEW! HAW HAW HAW!"

I facepalmed and had to hand him off to a co-worker so I could have a moment alone in the back room to throttle the Retail Salesman's 'Stupid Customer' plush doll. Best therapy in the world, I tell ya.


Voudoun has some nifty elements. I'll lecture you on it sometime if you're feeling studious, or I'll shut up and do something useful with my time, heh.

Re: Rowr.

[kellan-m-solan.livejournal.com]

That's a lecture I would be very interested in...I suspect my boots are smaller thanfeatherynscale's, left one included. At least less heavy }-).

Additionally, you and I might enjoy a chat about historical fencing. You have a pell--which means you're serious and you're up on ARMA--so you're not an idiot (not that any acquittance of featherynscale's is likely to be) . My inbox is always hungry for new information.

Re: Rowr.

[featherynscale.livejournal.com]

I dunno, man, I seem to remember you wearing my shoes. Or something. Oh, right, metaphor. I forget. :)

My actual purpose in this comment is to inform/remind you that saffronhare is a historical fencing enthusiast as well.

Re: Rowr.

[kellan-m-solan.livejournal.com]

Mmmm, there is probably a picture of that around somewhere and it isn't the shoes that make that alarming.

Metaphore aside, I wouldn't likely be willing to imply that you have large feet. I do think that your boots are probably far better suited to crushing things than mine. While I cannot actually recall what any of your footware was like, I have a lovely image of you in mind complete with very heavy, very black boots. The kind with the nice deep tread.

Strangely Saff and I have not talked much about fencing, weapons, conflict, or violence of any kind despite our obvious inclinations. I'll have to ponder that.