Anna S. (eliade) wrote,
Anna S.

not at all in need of therapy

I dreamed I lived in a huge house that had become a refuge against an apocalyptic world for me and a handful of my friends--except that mid-slumber-party my friends also invited a rock band to stay, and they took over the entire living room. I suggested that they might want to expand to other rooms in the house, but meanwhile it was turning into party central, so I left to wander upwards through the many floors and rooms of my mansion. I was surprised by the number of people wandering the halls in what had once been an empty place entirely my own.

In the penthouse, I found my sparring partner--a tough handsome man rather like Michael in La Femme Nikita. We squared off for a sword fight, but my sword was like a Chinese yo-yo, those party favors where you flip a curl of paper forward off a stick, then pull it back. So I went to find another sword in my weapons storeroom; I kept finding short knives and other inadequate substitutes (step away from your paperback copy of Freud for Beginners, please) and I don't think we ever got around to the sex swordplay, my hunt devolving into a series of navigational zigzags through women's locker rooms.

And thus I begin my day.

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