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And it looks like I have time to update now. It was a very good weekend, with a game on Friday that lasted for over four hours, resolved some major plot points, brought up another plot point, and contained what ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
olethros refers to as some of the most disturbing imagery ever (sorry!).
Then Saturday contained a barbecue with some of the SCA folks, experimenting with hot-smoking techniques using peat as the smoke source, and a home-made jerk chicken rub. Carib Indian/Bog Irish Fusion Cookery! It worked well, and Arpad and I have plans to improve the next version.
Sunday was spent fetching various bits of hardware from Ranelagh, gardening, and barbecuing. The hardware haul involved a new bin; a 3lb hammer for use as a ritual tool; duck tape; some broom handle which will become a practice stick for heavy fighting; a few metal hook/prop things for hanging baskets, lanterns, etc on; new shears for the garden, and some other odds and ends.
So I was comfortably tired (especially after working on the translation of a tough Finnish passage) going into last night, only to dream one of the more bizarre dreams I've had in a long time. The main feature of the dream was this big rambling house, full of long galleries, internal balconies, and high windows. At various points in the dream it belonged to my cousin Brian, mysef andinannajones, yendi (or a future version of him, looking very dignified with grey hair), and Miroza-the-cat. The dream went on and on and on, and seemed to cover about thirty years worth of vignettes here and there, and featured just about everyone I know.
At one point, I was moving picture frames from one storage room to another in the house, helped by my younger brother, who was muttering that our father was never going to recognise the fact that he was now legally married. At another, I was trying to persuade the cat that a hundredweight of salmon was not a good price for the house, and that she'd lose the comfy spots all over it that she'd spent years and hundreds of euros building. Our cat sounds worryingly like Alf. And another involved a long form that needed to be countersigned byinannajones, yendi, and the cat, and then faxed to murnkay, who was waiting for it in Chicago so that he could pass it on to Al Capone. I woke up more than a bit disoriented, and I keep on flashing back to scenes from it.
olethros refers to as some of the most disturbing imagery ever (sorry!).Then Saturday contained a barbecue with some of the SCA folks, experimenting with hot-smoking techniques using peat as the smoke source, and a home-made jerk chicken rub. Carib Indian/Bog Irish Fusion Cookery! It worked well, and Arpad and I have plans to improve the next version.
Sunday was spent fetching various bits of hardware from Ranelagh, gardening, and barbecuing. The hardware haul involved a new bin; a 3lb hammer for use as a ritual tool; duck tape; some broom handle which will become a practice stick for heavy fighting; a few metal hook/prop things for hanging baskets, lanterns, etc on; new shears for the garden, and some other odds and ends.
So I was comfortably tired (especially after working on the translation of a tough Finnish passage) going into last night, only to dream one of the more bizarre dreams I've had in a long time. The main feature of the dream was this big rambling house, full of long galleries, internal balconies, and high windows. At various points in the dream it belonged to my cousin Brian, mysef and
inannajones, yendi (or a future version of him, looking very dignified with grey hair), and Miroza-the-cat. The dream went on and on and on, and seemed to cover about thirty years worth of vignettes here and there, and featured just about everyone I know. At one point, I was moving picture frames from one storage room to another in the house, helped by my younger brother, who was muttering that our father was never going to recognise the fact that he was now legally married. At another, I was trying to persuade the cat that a hundredweight of salmon was not a good price for the house, and that she'd lose the comfy spots all over it that she'd spent years and hundreds of euros building. Our cat sounds worryingly like Alf. And another involved a long form that needed to be countersigned by
inannajones, yendi, and the cat, and then faxed to murnkay, who was waiting for it in Chicago so that he could pass it on to Al Capone. I woke up more than a bit disoriented, and I keep on flashing back to scenes from it.
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From:
dream
liberta
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It makes sense to me that they should represent the mind.
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