January 6th, 2007


(no subject)

Had a complicated dream last night in which civilization was collapsing, and I somehow wound up as the quasi-samurai bodyguard to a royal family holding court in an abandoned museum. They were very upset because dwarven looters had stolen their stuffed mammoth.

 At one point, I found myself falling down a flight of stairs, while someone behind me yelled "Careful! Those are just brocade stairs!" (they promptly collapsed under my weight) and then there was the conversation with the king--

"I'm sorry, my liege, but your son is an idiot."

"Yes, I know. Fortunately for you, I'm fond, not blind."

It ended when someone sent a troll after them--a very vivid creature that looked like a two-thousand pound orangutan drawn by Burne Hogarth--which was throwing two-by-fours at me, and I was running through the museum dodging and yelling "To arms! To arms!" and wondering where the hell I'd left my sword.

I woke up because James had gotten up, which was Ben's cue to come flop on my chest and purr in anticipation of another fine day's escort mission.