C
Chessie
Guest
I love husband dreams where weird shit happens.
Congratulations to everyone who participated. Seriously, writing everyday isn't easy. So *high fives* all around!
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Nano 2016 Motivation and Confession Thread
- Thread starter Caged Maiden
- Start date
I love husband dreams where weird shit happens.
Congratulations to everyone who participated. Seriously, writing everyday isn't easy. So *high fives* all around!
DragonOfTheAerie
Vala
Oh my gosh. That's perfect XD
Gribba
Troubadour
- Thread starter
- #284
Okay, no, now I have the winner.
It was like the old west or something, and Sweringen (Ian McShane's character from Deadwood) was there (or at least the way i felt about him while I was watching the show was), but he talked like one of my old friends, who's from France. And I was some part of a group who were tasked with killing these three guys who were standing between "us" (whomever that was) and that bad-feeling guy.
So, someone botched the job earlier, apparently, because I'm witnessing a scene where some cowboy dude is talking to us like Katniss' coach guy? Like all serious and not really helpful, but like, "Now you just gotta get it done. No choice about it." I'm not sure what he was really referring to, though, I just had a sense that we'd already failed once and now we had to be sure we succeeded.
His great plan? Three brown glass cups and a foil-sealed bottle about the size of a pint glass...full of poisoned/ rufied whisky. But we had to make sure they drank enough each to put them out so we could get to the bad guy.
The plan was shaky at best. I was concerned. But then he said he'd already sent one of the ladies from the bar down there to tell them a drink was coming. Sure, I thought, that isn't at all suspicious.
But then we had a bit of a sub plot develop, and this is the real kicker. I didn't have an appropriate dress to wear to go poison these guys, so i had to make something (of course). So I made this thing (that's based off a shirt I own, in my closet) that was stretchy smooth gray fabric, and I used a binding tape to cover the armseye seam where it connects. And the sleeve top was bigger than the armseye on the bodice because I had made a change, and there was a gap at the bottom that would sort of hang open (but it was a really big, baggy garment, where the bottom of the sleeve was like at my waist, not armpit. My husband looked at it and frowned. He didn't think it looked good, nor that it would do the job (WTF?) But somehow, we got over our differences of opinion over the binding tape debacle, and were on the road for murder again!
The weird thing is...(ha, like it hasn't already been weird) the bad guy, who feels like Sweringen and talks like my french friend didn't seem offended we'd tried to kill him. He put his arm around my shoulder and showed me some things, like the scenery and stuff, and said, "If you like this, you'd LOVE France!" (and I got the feeling he'd said that to me many times before, like so many people who constantly insist "the old country" was better than the new). He opened a gigantic fridge and showed me all kinds of glasses filled with beverages. A margarita, with the lime still on the top, a clear glass barrel of something clear, etc. etc. and on and on, just full of previous attempts on his life. His last words..."Yes. If you like this, you'll love France." And then...
...my husband woke me up and goes, "I just had a really weird dream."
"Me too," I answered. "Want hear mine?"
And then he did.
It was like the old west or something, and Sweringen (Ian McShane's character from Deadwood) was there (or at least the way i felt about him while I was watching the show was), but he talked like one of my old friends, who's from France. And I was some part of a group who were tasked with killing these three guys who were standing between "us" (whomever that was) and that bad-feeling guy.
So, someone botched the job earlier, apparently, because I'm witnessing a scene where some cowboy dude is talking to us like Katniss' coach guy? Like all serious and not really helpful, but like, "Now you just gotta get it done. No choice about it." I'm not sure what he was really referring to, though, I just had a sense that we'd already failed once and now we had to be sure we succeeded.
His great plan? Three brown glass cups and a foil-sealed bottle about the size of a pint glass...full of poisoned/ rufied whisky. But we had to make sure they drank enough each to put them out so we could get to the bad guy.
The plan was shaky at best. I was concerned. But then he said he'd already sent one of the ladies from the bar down there to tell them a drink was coming. Sure, I thought, that isn't at all suspicious.
But then we had a bit of a sub plot develop, and this is the real kicker. I didn't have an appropriate dress to wear to go poison these guys, so i had to make something (of course). So I made this thing (that's based off a shirt I own, in my closet) that was stretchy smooth gray fabric, and I used a binding tape to cover the armseye seam where it connects. And the sleeve top was bigger than the armseye on the bodice because I had made a change, and there was a gap at the bottom that would sort of hang open (but it was a really big, baggy garment, where the bottom of the sleeve was like at my waist, not armpit. My husband looked at it and frowned. He didn't think it looked good, nor that it would do the job (WTF?) But somehow, we got over our differences of opinion over the binding tape debacle, and were on the road for murder again!
The weird thing is...(ha, like it hasn't already been weird) the bad guy, who feels like Sweringen and talks like my french friend didn't seem offended we'd tried to kill him. He put his arm around my shoulder and showed me some things, like the scenery and stuff, and said, "If you like this, you'd LOVE France!" (and I got the feeling he'd said that to me many times before, like so many people who constantly insist "the old country" was better than the new). He opened a gigantic fridge and showed me all kinds of glasses filled with beverages. A margarita, with the lime still on the top, a clear glass barrel of something clear, etc. etc. and on and on, just full of previous attempts on his life. His last words..."Yes. If you like this, you'll love France." And then...
...my husband woke me up and goes, "I just had a really weird dream."
"Me too," I answered. "Want hear mine?"
And then he did.
I was in a tiny apartment building. Everything was really utilitarian. My husband was on a ship fighting off an alien species who was coming for earth. All resources had been put into fighting off the invaders, so everyone who wasn't fighting lived in working compounds. I was wearing a blue jumpsuit. During the day I worked in the plant that made freeze dried meals for the soldiers.
I lived in the "mothers" compound, which meant my kids weren't with me during the day, but they shared the tiny apartment with me at night. I let them play in the hall because the apartment was a single room and I was trying to cook dinner. I could hear them playing. And then I couldn't.
I went out to the hall to find them and they were gone. I pounded on doors. No one had seen them. I went down to the office and the robotic information lady told me I didn't have children. I screamed at her that I did. I do have children. She told me there was no record of me ever having children.
Through the whole dream I frantically tried to find them.
I discovered my husband had them. He had come back in secret to take them. The alien invaders were humans from the future who had come back to save us from the robots on earth trying to destroy us. He had joined forces with the very people he had tried to kill had come back on a covert mission to rescue us.
So that's my next story.
I lived in the "mothers" compound, which meant my kids weren't with me during the day, but they shared the tiny apartment with me at night. I let them play in the hall because the apartment was a single room and I was trying to cook dinner. I could hear them playing. And then I couldn't.
I went out to the hall to find them and they were gone. I pounded on doors. No one had seen them. I went down to the office and the robotic information lady told me I didn't have children. I screamed at her that I did. I do have children. She told me there was no record of me ever having children.
Through the whole dream I frantically tried to find them.
I discovered my husband had them. He had come back in secret to take them. The alien invaders were humans from the future who had come back to save us from the robots on earth trying to destroy us. He had joined forces with the very people he had tried to kill had come back on a covert mission to rescue us.
So that's my next story.
- Thread starter
- #286
Okay, well, I have no plans for my dream. So, if you want mine, too, Helio, you can use it. I don't mind :insertevillaughhere
