Setsuled's Journal

I've got at least two more Comic-Con reports, but I want to write this dream down real quick; I haven't even had coffee yet.

I didn't sleep well, and I think I might describe the dream as an actual nightmare, though nothing particularly scary ever happened in it. I found I'd thrown off my sheets when I woke up, though.

It started with my sister and I going to Grossmont Centre mall and I suggested to her that we go into Starbuck's so I could buy some Final Fantasy VII action figures. Inside, we were talking about splitting the cost of four when my cell phone rang. It was a woman's voice that sounded familiar but I couldn't quite think of her name. "I didn't know your series would do so well," she said.

I thought, What is she talking about? Who is this person to care how well one of my series is doing, and anyway, is either of them really doing well enough to warrant a phone call? "I'm sorry, who are you?" I asked.

She ignored me and continued talking about how impressed she was, though I was getting a strange feeling she didn't actually care at all. She continued to refuse to tell me who she was, so I started doing an impression of Orson Welles; "No, do not look for me. You cannot see me. You can only see . . . the shadows."

She didn't say anything, so I continued, "Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"

"What are you doing?" she asked and I did my best rendition of The Shadow's evil cackle. She hung up.

The Grossmont Centre Starbuck's is connected to the Barnes and Noble, and my sister spotted our mother in the bookstore being swallowed by a shelf.

Later, I was on a movie set of a dimly lit mansion den with a massive marble fireplace in which there was currently a big orange fire. With me was Maureen O'Hara, looking as she does to-day, and a man I can't identify but who I trusted implicitly. He and I were holding between us by the brim a top hat filled with apples.

Something really terrible happened, and we found ourselves floating in space, surrounded by the square-ish late nineteenth century Polish buildings from INLAND EMPIRE. Then we started falling. The buildings flew up away from us and all the apples started flying out of the hat.