kiya

I think this one came out of, on the one hand, random bits of watching odd anime with

teinedreugan and discussing it as it went by with

oneironaut, who watched Kenshin in search of Sano's big-ass sword in the credits and missed it twice while being severely traumatised by the opening credits music and Yu Yu Hakusho because I was insistent about Kurama, the kitsune dude with the rose whip who is the only one of the major protagonists I don't want to strangle most of the time and, on the other hand, listening to various people discussing the Tom Cruise samurai flick, mostly with reservations.

I was one of the daughters of an important family, which was vaguely Japanese-flavoured in a distant, hazy way, and lived in a large building complex that had at least three or four storeys. We had a foreigner, I think an American, staying with us and trying to win our trust for trade or something of the sort; my father, played by my father with a longer beard than I've ever seen him actually grow, was working on possibly negotiating this and trying to figure the guy out; the guy was also courting me.

Then Bad Things started happening to us, like my great-grandmother disappearing mysteriously and later found dead in a grandfather clock bricked into the wall of an obscure bathroom where the only way of getting any of it open was to use a coin (square, hole punched through the middle) in its lock, said coin having been dropped in between the cracks in the floor of said obscure bathroom. I had a third person moment where the American was seen closing the clock and dropping the coin, and discovered it myself later. Nobody knew what had happened; the American did a magic of some sort to show us a map of the glowing green lines of malevolence that had seeped into the stone of our house, coincidentally at the same time erasing his fingerprints over the spot that were somehow incriminating.

I'm not really sure how that was supposed to work out; I suspect it's one of those things where I need to catch the next episode and I don't know when it's actually on the schedule.

And in this dream I was supposed to recover three stolen paintings. I was given the assignment by

tnielsenhayden, who was working two stories below ground level in a building where to get to that floor one had to push buttons for '48'. I don't remember much about this because it was mostly James Bond/Mission Impossible action movie stuff, though there was the need to cross large bodies of water (possibly the Atlantic) in a small white personal-sized submarine while listening to the conversations of the pursuers through the thin walls. Twice. And apprehending the last painting required making a painting of my own, which involved glow in the dark paint, and also painting the top of the head of the thief with the glow in the dark paint so that he was easy to follow when he ran away.

Many stairs, many ramps, lots of running around, and a conclusion that involved touching up the painting a little, then printing out the actual contract where I said I'd do the job and signing it and turning it in with all four paintings. (Apparently I hadn't been sure I could do the job, so I only committed to doing it after it was done.)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Date: 2003-12-07 10:52 pm (UTC)

From:

suzanne.livejournal.com

Hmmm. Very interesting

the first one reminds me of the dreams I occasionaly have where I'll wake up and say, "What the hell was /that/ about?" Then go back to sleep in an often futile hope that the ending will explain it.

Suzanne of the vivid dreams, especially lately.