![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
snowdarkredOkay, it's not unusual for me to have strange dreams. I've always had a pretty active dream-scape, and my dreams feel real enough that sometimes I've had to actually check to make sure that they're not real. I've had zombie-hunter dreams, wing!dreams, living through a school day dreams... I even have fandom dreams, which range from the action-adventure FMA one to the weirdly accurate Law&Order/Dr. Phil dream (I don't even know), and a NCIS dream involving Abby's coffin. When I say that my dreams feel real, I mean that they feel real. People react how normal people would, they have accurate accents, the colors are the same, the sounds are the same, the freakin' scents are the same.....
But I've apparently been reading way too much RPF lately, because this is starting to get a little creepy.
In the first dream, I'm waiting outside my house with my Marvel messenger bag. It's early fall, and the trees across the street have turned red and orange. It's the middle of the day. A blue pick-up truck turns into my neighborhood, and I feel happy that my ride came to pick me up. The blue truck (I even remember the exact shade, seriously) pulls up and I hop in. I slid in, buckle the seatbelt (safety first, even in dreams), and turn to face the driver...who it Karl Urban.
"Hey, Karl," I say.
"Hey," he says back. With a perfect Kiwi accent.
We turn around and leave my neighborhood. We're heading for a certain coffee shop. Halfway there, Karl gets a text. Then he says, "Hold on, we've got to go pick up Chis."
"Okay," I say. "So I guess his schedule freed up?"
Karl makes this weird sort of humming noise as the truck makes a right-hand turn. "Something like that. You're going to have to scoot in." Because the truck is old and doesn't have a back seat.
We stop at a random hotel and I get squished between Karl Urban and Chris Pine. And we drive the rest of the way to a Seattle's Best cafe. Once there, they try to convince me to order a coffee ("You'll like it," Karl insists. "Give it a chance!" Chris says.), but I hold strong and order a hot chocolate instead.
"Kirk and McCoy and snow, your orders are ready!" the barista girl announced. And yes, they actually called me by my username, though both Chris and Karl call me by my real first name. We somehow do not draw attention to ourselves, and we pick up our drinks and sit at a high table by the windows. The sun shines through and Chris's eyes look amazing. I tell him so.
We all talk, exchanging fast-paced banter. Karl and I discuss Star Trek at length, and Chris rolls his eyes (good-naturedly) and cracks Trekkie jokes. Karl strikes back with jabs about all of the romcoms Chris did, and I bring up all of Karl horrible sci-fi films. Chris and I try to convince Karl to stop making movies he knows are crappy, for the sake of his career. He ignores us and orders another coffee.
Chris and I roll our eyes and make faces at Karl. Karl calls us 'brats' and goes off to pick up his new coffee when the barista girl shouts out, "Reaper, your order is ready!" (I told you my dreams were weird.)
So, it's getting late, and Karl decides that I should be going home. He's really sweet about it, but firm. He and Chris smoosh me in the truck again, and we drive back to my house. Chris gets out so that I can get out, and Karl gets out, and they both walk me to the door. I forgot my key.
My mom opens the door, and says "Hi" in this really simple, "Hey, you're famous, but I'm a cool mofo who doesn't care, so yeah whatever." I wave good-bye to the boys, and Chris tells me that we're going to have to do it again sometime. I agree. (No, really, I do.)
They drive off in the truck, and the dream ends.
It was awesome and weird, and I usually don't refer to actors by their first names, but after that, I feel like they're always going to be "Karl" and "Chris" to me. Forever.
My other dream was far less interesting and much more short.
I was in a McDonald's, a place that I would never set foot in if I was awake. I'm sitting in one of those plastic booths. I'm waiting for someone to come back from ordering for us. I look up when they approach--and it's Heath Ledger. I know that he's dead, but it doesn't seem to matter in the dream. He's just there. We start to have a conversation. It's sort of fuzzy and blurry around the edges, so I was pretty sure that I was in some McDonald's up in the sky. The words were blurry, somehow; I don't know how that happens.
And then I was woken up by my alarm clock, but I remember that the conversation was supposed to be important, but for the life of me, I can't seem to hear it. But I do remember that his accent was there, and it was actually his. Which is strange, because in everything I've seen him in, he's always had an American accent. I haven't seen interviews with him or anything.
So, yeah, I have really strange dreams. Involving real people, apparently.
But I've apparently been reading way too much RPF lately, because this is starting to get a little creepy.
In the first dream, I'm waiting outside my house with my Marvel messenger bag. It's early fall, and the trees across the street have turned red and orange. It's the middle of the day. A blue pick-up truck turns into my neighborhood, and I feel happy that my ride came to pick me up. The blue truck (I even remember the exact shade, seriously) pulls up and I hop in. I slid in, buckle the seatbelt (safety first, even in dreams), and turn to face the driver...who it Karl Urban.
"Hey, Karl," I say.
"Hey," he says back. With a perfect Kiwi accent.
We turn around and leave my neighborhood. We're heading for a certain coffee shop. Halfway there, Karl gets a text. Then he says, "Hold on, we've got to go pick up Chis."
"Okay," I say. "So I guess his schedule freed up?"
Karl makes this weird sort of humming noise as the truck makes a right-hand turn. "Something like that. You're going to have to scoot in." Because the truck is old and doesn't have a back seat.
We stop at a random hotel and I get squished between Karl Urban and Chris Pine. And we drive the rest of the way to a Seattle's Best cafe. Once there, they try to convince me to order a coffee ("You'll like it," Karl insists. "Give it a chance!" Chris says.), but I hold strong and order a hot chocolate instead.
"Kirk and McCoy and snow, your orders are ready!" the barista girl announced. And yes, they actually called me by my username, though both Chris and Karl call me by my real first name. We somehow do not draw attention to ourselves, and we pick up our drinks and sit at a high table by the windows. The sun shines through and Chris's eyes look amazing. I tell him so.
We all talk, exchanging fast-paced banter. Karl and I discuss Star Trek at length, and Chris rolls his eyes (good-naturedly) and cracks Trekkie jokes. Karl strikes back with jabs about all of the romcoms Chris did, and I bring up all of Karl horrible sci-fi films. Chris and I try to convince Karl to stop making movies he knows are crappy, for the sake of his career. He ignores us and orders another coffee.
Chris and I roll our eyes and make faces at Karl. Karl calls us 'brats' and goes off to pick up his new coffee when the barista girl shouts out, "Reaper, your order is ready!" (I told you my dreams were weird.)
So, it's getting late, and Karl decides that I should be going home. He's really sweet about it, but firm. He and Chris smoosh me in the truck again, and we drive back to my house. Chris gets out so that I can get out, and Karl gets out, and they both walk me to the door. I forgot my key.
My mom opens the door, and says "Hi" in this really simple, "Hey, you're famous, but I'm a cool mofo who doesn't care, so yeah whatever." I wave good-bye to the boys, and Chris tells me that we're going to have to do it again sometime. I agree. (No, really, I do.)
They drive off in the truck, and the dream ends.
It was awesome and weird, and I usually don't refer to actors by their first names, but after that, I feel like they're always going to be "Karl" and "Chris" to me. Forever.
My other dream was far less interesting and much more short.
I was in a McDonald's, a place that I would never set foot in if I was awake. I'm sitting in one of those plastic booths. I'm waiting for someone to come back from ordering for us. I look up when they approach--and it's Heath Ledger. I know that he's dead, but it doesn't seem to matter in the dream. He's just there. We start to have a conversation. It's sort of fuzzy and blurry around the edges, so I was pretty sure that I was in some McDonald's up in the sky. The words were blurry, somehow; I don't know how that happens.
And then I was woken up by my alarm clock, but I remember that the conversation was supposed to be important, but for the life of me, I can't seem to hear it. But I do remember that his accent was there, and it was actually his. Which is strange, because in everything I've seen him in, he's always had an American accent. I haven't seen interviews with him or anything.
So, yeah, I have really strange dreams. Involving real people, apparently.
no subject
Date: 2009-11-12 09:33 pm (UTC)Also, McCoy staring at bars and swearing at them while trying to save a redshirt's life is now... OK, it's a very probable image, and I'm never going to look at Star Trek without imagining classic MMORPG red bars slowly depleting and/or increasing...
Drat. Now I'm imagining McCoy as a GW monk. (I play Guild Wars. Once I was PvPing with friends, and we got ganged up on by 8 people. I was irritable that day, and actually SHOUTED at them, "You kill my team over MY COLD DEAD BODY, DAMNIT.")