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Elaborate nested dream.
I dreamt I was going to Europe with my parents and there was a lot of frantic packing. I'm not going to bother writing out the careful listing and finding and buying and packing, but it was extensive. For some reason, I had to lug my suitcase and set up a cot late at night to be ready to go the next day. I woke up early the next morning and discovered that the place I'd been told to put my cot was the border of my parents' property in the house I grew up in and the neighbors, right on the edge of the sidewalk. I was early, so I decided to read in bed and pulled out The Hunger Games.
Now, side note: I haven't read The Hunger Games yet. I do know bits of plot I've picked up from other people. It's on my list, I have multiple friends and coworkers pressuring me to read it, but I've got about four months of backlog to work through before I can start borrowing more stuff. I'm working on Mistborn right now, which I'm also under pressure from multiple friends to read.
Anyway, so I'm in the book and I'm Katniss. We're doing the whole "slightly unrelated to main plot initial scene to establish character thing". I go to a hockey game in my district that establishes that the mayor and his wife (and thus the government in general) is hopelessly corrupt. I work on a painting, but cannot paint nearly as well as my father, who specializes in painting the shadows of birch trees.
It turns out the way to get chosen to be in the Hunger Games is to write the best novel. For some reason, I desperately want to be in the Games--it's my life's dream. My best friend's little sister writes a novel that's better received than mine, though, so she's supposed to go. She has written a novel about a cruise ship where everything goes wrong--since this is in the future, there's bacteria in the ocean now that kills everyone in the vicinity if it interacts with red dye. You're not allowed to bring red dresses or shoes on cruise ships any more. The cover of her book is a red shoe in a puddle of salt water--very ominous. It's based on a disaster she and my friend and their mother were in a few years ago and barely escaped. Thing is, she wrote the book because she likes writing and was trying to process trauma, not because she wanted to be in the Games. She's only, like, eight. So I convince people to let me take her place.
At this point, I reach the end of a chapter and realize it's time to go. So I get up and since this is where I slept and I don't have a room, start changing out of my pajamas. I'm standing butt naked in the street and realize that there are actually other people awake at this point--passing cars, a little boy on a tricycle. This is awkward. But what else am I going to do? I put some clothes on and brush my teeth and wake up.
I dreamt I was going to Europe with my parents and there was a lot of frantic packing. I'm not going to bother writing out the careful listing and finding and buying and packing, but it was extensive. For some reason, I had to lug my suitcase and set up a cot late at night to be ready to go the next day. I woke up early the next morning and discovered that the place I'd been told to put my cot was the border of my parents' property in the house I grew up in and the neighbors, right on the edge of the sidewalk. I was early, so I decided to read in bed and pulled out The Hunger Games.
Now, side note: I haven't read The Hunger Games yet. I do know bits of plot I've picked up from other people. It's on my list, I have multiple friends and coworkers pressuring me to read it, but I've got about four months of backlog to work through before I can start borrowing more stuff. I'm working on Mistborn right now, which I'm also under pressure from multiple friends to read.
Anyway, so I'm in the book and I'm Katniss. We're doing the whole "slightly unrelated to main plot initial scene to establish character thing". I go to a hockey game in my district that establishes that the mayor and his wife (and thus the government in general) is hopelessly corrupt. I work on a painting, but cannot paint nearly as well as my father, who specializes in painting the shadows of birch trees.
It turns out the way to get chosen to be in the Hunger Games is to write the best novel. For some reason, I desperately want to be in the Games--it's my life's dream. My best friend's little sister writes a novel that's better received than mine, though, so she's supposed to go. She has written a novel about a cruise ship where everything goes wrong--since this is in the future, there's bacteria in the ocean now that kills everyone in the vicinity if it interacts with red dye. You're not allowed to bring red dresses or shoes on cruise ships any more. The cover of her book is a red shoe in a puddle of salt water--very ominous. It's based on a disaster she and my friend and their mother were in a few years ago and barely escaped. Thing is, she wrote the book because she likes writing and was trying to process trauma, not because she wanted to be in the Games. She's only, like, eight. So I convince people to let me take her place.
At this point, I reach the end of a chapter and realize it's time to go. So I get up and since this is where I slept and I don't have a room, start changing out of my pajamas. I'm standing butt naked in the street and realize that there are actually other people awake at this point--passing cars, a little boy on a tricycle. This is awkward. But what else am I going to do? I put some clothes on and brush my teeth and wake up.
