‘Twas a dark and stormy night at the abode of Fedoralady. Outside, the winds did howl as sheets of rain dashed against the window panes and thunder rumbled ominously. Tornado watches abounded once more. “Zounds!” she exclaimed. “I do not wish to see any tornadic activity until my favourite actor appears upon the screen in Black Sky! Let great fans and sprinklers and CGI create the chaos, not Mother Nature!”
I don’t why I feel the need to speak in slightly archaic language, unless it’s all the RIII excitement. Anyway, Mother Nature is indeed hammering away at us out there, although it’s let up enough for the satellite signal to return at least momentarily.
I should be well rested, as it about all I have done today up until this point. It’s all I have wished to do. Slept and dreamed and occasionally roused, only to fall asleep again. I think I was tired. Perhaps my body knew the storms were coming and wouldn’t let me rest later?
Back to the topic of this post: my RA-related dreams. I’ve had several, ranging from the ridiculous to the sublime, so I thought I would share some of them with you tonight . . . along with some images of the Lovely One.
DREAM # 1: Fedoralady and the Angel
I am sitting on the edge of a bed in a castle chamber, dressed in a forest green dress of medieval design. I am younger than I am now–in my 20s, perhaps?–but my hair is as long as it was in my teenage years, close to waist-length, and curled. I can hear merry-making going on elsewhere in the castle, but I am not in a festive mood.
I am filled with dread, because I know someone is supposed to come to me and I singularly do not want to see him. You see, it’s Sheriff Vasey.
The door to the chamber begins to open and I shake. Please, don’t let it be the Treacherous Troll!
It isn’t. Much to my surprise and pleasure, it’s Harry Kennedy! Only he’s dressed as I have never seen him before.
On top of his customary cozy jumper (red and green striped) and his jeans, Harry is decked out like a glitzy Nativity pageant angel. On top of his tousled dark head, he wears a tipsy halo made out of wire and wrapped in gleaming gold tinsel. On his back are a pair of wings, made out of coat hangers and tissue paper heavy with silver and gold glitter, the edges trimmed in more tinsel.
His long, lanky body is festooned with more tinsel and with Christmas lights, which are blinking red, green, yellow, blue and purple!
Harry’s smile, however, outshines all the lights and glitter.
And he is giggling merrily as he walks into the chamber, long arms outspread, the most adorable angel I have ever seen. I start laughing too, and the next thing I know his arms are wrapped around me and we both collapse backward onto the bed, still laughing uproariously.
And the dream ends.
DREAM #2: Fedoralady & RA the Barbecue Chef
It’s a warm day at my parent’s farmhouse, the windows raised and the doors opened to let some refreshing breezes flow through the screens. From the dining room, I hear the familiar screech of the screen door to the back porch, which is off the big country kitchen.
Suddenly, I also notice the scent of burgers sizzling on a grill. I can hear my parents’ voices. They must have decided to cook out for lunch?
Then I hear another voice. A male voice that is deep and warm and definitely not from Lower Alabama.
I head out to the porch and discover we have a guest. It’s Richard Armitage. And he’s not wearing a shirt, just a pair of jeans. He looks a lot like this, only with a much more benign expression on his handsome, smiling face. And there’s no Lucas tattoos. Just that bare, fair, beautiful flesh . . . now, where was I?
Oh, yes. There RA is, on my parents’ back porch, flipping sizzling hamburger patties on the grill, seemingly right at home. My mother explains Richard volunteered for chef duties and comments on what a nice, polite young man he is. I agree.
Richard apologizes for not having a shirt on. “I’m not quite accustomed to your heat,” he says. I smile weakly, and assure him it’s not a problem at all. Inside, I am squeeing like mad.
He is getting along famously with my parents. Mama is clearly smitten. My dad, as always, is joking with him and Richard just smiles those beautiful smiles. He seems quite relaxed. And the dream fades away . . . but leaves me smiling when I awake.
DREAM #3: Fedoralady Interviews the Tuxedo-Clad One
I am sitting in the back of a limo with Richard Armitage. He’s dressed in a tuxedo and looks absolutely sublime. Can’t tell you what I am wearing, all my attention is focused on him for some strange reason.
I am interviewing him. He’s very charming, modest and self-deprecating as always. We often laugh during our conversation. He also flirts a bit with me–in the nicest sort of way. I feel quite young and positively blooming. I know this is going to be a wonderful article . . . I wish I could remember all the details of what we talked of, but I cannot. It all made me very happy.
I’ve had one or two other RA-related dreams, but these are the ones that stand out the most in my memory banks. I often recall them with great fondness. Your thoughts or comments are welcome.