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02 May 2004 @ 10:14 am
I can't believe I fogot to mention the sex-with-Angel dream, which occurred right before the Dick Van Dyke dream (Dick Van Dyke in this context: so Freudian). Angel was sharing a room with my brother and we had very little privacy, but I climbed into his bed in a long flannel gown and we squirmed under the covers and got it on, but kept getting interrputed by people coming into the room. One time it was this nebbishy accountant--his presence frustrated me so much that I kicked and knocked over his box of glass animal figurines, which scattered everywhere. I felt bad and apologetically helped him tidy up. He snarked about how I'd placed the animals in the box, then I got back in bed and pounced on Angel. He gave me a bear hug and I explained in graphic detail what I wanted him to do to me. We might've done it, or we might've not. I can't remember. How much does *that* suck?

I need breakfast.
tesla321tesla321 on May 2nd, 2004 10:29 am (UTC)
:writhes in jealousy:
gimmespike: and Angel.welcome_to on May 2nd, 2004 01:05 pm (UTC)
How much does *that* suck?
Pleasepleaseplease remember and then share, mmmkay? Cause my dreams were lame (all about writing term papers), so I am needing to dream vicariously these days.

auroramama on May 2nd, 2004 03:42 pm (UTC)
woe is you
Hey, all I got was some anonymous hugging at a dinner party in a bohemian neighborhood my dreams keep dragging me back to, and James Marsters huddled in a chair against the wall in a hotel lobby, hair rather motley (short here and shorter there, gray and light brown in patches like a dilute tortoiseshell cat), complaining about Fame. I sat down next to him to show him how much I empathized (no, I'm afraid that's exactly what I would want to do, though I might have the sense not to in real life), but he continued kvetching. "People used to think they had to wear clothes around me, you know." Whereupon I remembered that all I had on was a bra and panties. I tried to think of a good apology, but all I could do was back away and feel ashamed of myself.
suck itttttttttttttttttttonelittlesleep on May 2nd, 2004 07:31 pm (UTC)
You dreamt about knocking over an accountant's glass animal collection while making it with Angel? :::snickering::: Sex dreams are always the weirdest, always with such strange oppositions (the accountant, the flannel nightgown). I remember having a dream in my X-Files days (back in highschool, mind you) about getting dirty with a very lovely Krycek and pushing him away when I discovered that he was sans condom. I remember wanting to bash my head in with my alarm clock when I woke up...daaamn...Even in my sleep, my conscience is a virginal biatch.

I haven't watched any Buffy for like five months now (I'm on a Smallville kick..eek..don't laugh) and *now* I'm having Spike-dreams. I never had them when I was absolutely panting-obsessed with him. Now he's like a regular. He shows up to give me a cup of coffee, or point out the book I should buy from the dream-bookstore. Sometimes he's the dude who helps me solve some great surreal-subconscious mystery. He's quite helpful. But its hard, you know, to care when your sleep self is busy keeping an eye out for Lex Luthor.

Pamgoosegirl9 on May 3rd, 2004 09:08 am (UTC)
You had sex with Angel and can't remember it? Oh, that blows. Hmmm, bear hugs with Angel .... drifts off into a daydream ....