Crazy Dream Chronicles - Blood and Kisses

NO, IT'S NOT TWILIGHT.
Or even anything Charlene Harris.
Stop interrupting, okay??? :P

So, here's (what I recall of) my dream from last night:

I was an actress in some action show for TV. Kinda like Xena or something.
And I looked a lot more like Felicia Day than myself. Like, I was thin and my hair was red and it was longer ...

BUT somehow, practicing something in my dressing room, I totally sliced my shoulder, right by my bra strap. And it was deep. And it was bleeding. A LOT. (Like the one time, irl, where I got a scar helping a friend move. It was a cut and, since I was wearing a black shirt, I didn't realize it was bleeding. Or even anything more than a scratch. At least, not until I ran over to my apartment and started taking care of it. Oy.)
(But this was WAY bigger and deeper than that. Like, I really needed stitches.)

SO, there I was cut and bleeding. And I didn't want to bother anyone. And I think that my make-up artist was somewhere else. So ... I went over to the next dressing room/trailer/whatever (my dream wasn't very specific), where the male co-star was.
And I knew that, in this dream, I wasn't married. But I might have been dating someone. And my co-star? I tried to avoid him. Since he came off as a bit smarmy or something. But he bothered me.
Still, I needed help. Since I couldn't even put a band-aid on my cut by myself. And it was bleeding and I needed to get it to stop. And we were going to be shooting. And I felt dumb enough anyways.

He lets me into his dressing room. I take off my shirt and you can see that my top (underneath. So, yes, I still dream that I wear garments. No wonder I avoid the smarmy guys. Because what if they want to do more than talk??!?!?) is covered with the blood seeping from that cut. I move my top and bra strap a little and he's very gallant and helps get me taken care of. (I know that more than a band-aid was involved. But I don't know. I'm an Ed major, not a doctor, okay???)

And there's this change in the atmosphere, y'know? I excuse myself back to my dressing room to get changed and cleaned up. Since, y'know, we have to film some more scenes in a bit. And I'm okay enough that I don't have to tell anyone else how I apparently attempted to fillet myself as I practiced some stunt in my room earlier.

Then we're on the set, ready to shoot some scene.
And it's a scene where we kiss.
So we do. ... And it's really nice. Like, getting lost in the moment, coming back to reality all dazed and eyes unfocused ... that type of nice.
As in, the director is clearing his throat when we didn't stop when he said "cut" ... especially as how, up until then, I had put as much distance as possible between my co-star and myself. Which kinda annoyed the director.

And, as my head slowly stops spinning and we pull away from each other, I can only think ... well, "wow" ... and that I need to break up with my boyfriend.
And wonder how much of the dizziness is caused by the kiss ... and how much is caused by blood loss.

.... And, um ... did I mention that Mr. Used-To-Be-Smarmy ... um ... hee hee ... was Nathan Fillion.

At least my dreamself has good taste. He's reportedly just as charming off camera as on.
Be still, my little fangirl heart.

So ... there you go. Another unsolicited look into the deepest recesses of my psyche.

Strangely enough, this is one of my few celebrity crushes who isn't married. Weird.

But, yeah. Acting, blood, macking on Fillion ... what a strange dream.
I was a little annoyed that Freya kept waking me up. ... And then the kids got up. So I don't recall all the details. Oh well.

Good thing that Michael's not the jealous type. And, as I told him, "In my dream, I wasn't married. So it wasn't cheating!!!" And he just gave me that look. ... You know, the look I get a lot. From lots of people. The one where they smile and roll their eyes and shake their heads. The look that says, "You are crazy. Nobody really is going to judge you. Good thing you're so adorably adamant. Silly Llanna ..."

Because Michael believe that the vast majority of the time?
Dreams are just dreams. They don't mean anything. So don't fret about them.
Sometimes, yes, a dream is more than just a dream ... but usually?
Don't worry about it.

I'm glad he feels that way ... since, wow, my dreams are wack.
Not wiggety-wack. Just the regular kind.