I was with a group of friends, from all different aspects of my life. I recognized some people, others were just bit players in this dream, I guess.
We were taking a walk through some neighbourhood, and this girl that I have a thing for and some random jackass, who have been flirting ALL evening (you know when you have definite emotions happening in dreams, even when the dream starts halfway through? That's the thing here. I only recall this dream starting at this point. It's assumed they've been looking at each other for hours beforehand...) lag behind.
I get jealous.
Yes. Even my subconscious is against my lack of romance, apparently...
We start jibing the new couple, and I keep my jealous nature inside.
We go back to this house/public hall, where spatial relationships do not stay constant. Doors which SHOULD lead to such room, end up leading outside, etc. (I blame House of Leaves for this. Stupid subconscious assimilation of my reading...)
We start drinking in the main room of the house. At this point, all in attendace are guys. I recognize Sjoberg as well as Random Jackass. The party gets rowdy. I sit in a chair beside the front door, pleasantly under the spell of a few drinks, keeping to myself.
Cops come in. Smalltown cops, who decide to flaunt their authority. Sjoberg does not take well to this at all.
The cops start roughing up my friends. I keep seated, not wanting to draw attention to myself.
The cops are done beating up my friends. They're leaving, and one of them says something stupid as a farewell line.
I pipe up. "Was that supposed to rhyme?"
Their attention shifts to me. A beat passes, and then I bolt, the cops in pursuit.
We're running around the house, I look back, and the lead cop's got a glass jug of Kool-Aid, yelling how he didn't have time to prepare the torture he had planned for me (involving some of his bodily fluids), and how he'd have to improvise.
The last thing I remember before I wake up is the glass jug shattering around my legs, and my legs getting pretty torn up.
* * *
Was invited to a post-Thanksgiving meal by girlone, a gathering of a few friends at the Party House.
Delicious meal made by girlone and Kristus - Lasagna, caesar salad, garlic bread, and pie. (Sorry about all the mushroom remnants on my plate, dear. Not a big fan of that vegetable.)
Took some good pics of Caboodle, and just enjoyed the company of my friends.
The Jahns' came by, and JJ and I decided to take some pics of me and her wrestling. Well, *I* decided, and JJ played along.
So I gave her a Rock Bottom. Well, a few of them actually. Now I'm not for violence against women, but I'm a big fan of the wrestling, and JJ humours me by locking up with me in the ol' squared circle. Or living room, or outside, or wherever...
And we had to get the pics correct, and so I drove her into the couch a few times for the best visual. And then from HER angle, etc.
But the pics look pretty cool. Especially from her angle.
From my angle, it COULD be a Clothesline from Hell I'm giving her, instead of a Rock Bottom.
From the other way? DEFINITELY a Rock Bottom.
And I decided to pull a thigh muscle doing it. Yup. I hurt MY ass making sure that JJ doesn't get hurt after driving her flat onto a couch.
The things I do for comedy...
* * *
These days, Canton, Dev and I make fun of her whenever she's on screen.
"Help! I've got my head caught in a bannister! Call my dad at CTU!"
I predicted she'd fall off a mountain, while Stan thought she'd be mauled by a bear.
Nope, the truth is much, MUCH stupider...