Tag Archives: dreams

Guyday Friday: Guy hears LW’s dream about the CReAtor

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Source: Getty Images~ Photographer Leslie Hassler

Ladywriter stretched, wincing as the Shoulder/Neck/Jaw Thingy flared.  A night of erratic sleep and too little of it, with rain on the way. It was going to be a long day. Still, she had a smile on her face.

That was a nice dream about Richard Armitage . . .

“Oh, really . . .” A familiar chocolate-laced baritone rumbled from the corner.

LW slid her glasses into place, Sir Guy’s knowing smirk coming into focus. He was a sight for sleep-deprived eyes–kohl-rimmed peepers, artfully tousled mane, snug Marvel of Engineering trousers and all.

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Source: Richard Armitage Net

“There you go, Sir Guy, reading my thoughts again.” She raised one brow, her mouth twisting wryly, and firmly shook her disheveled head. “However . . . it was not a naughty dream, for your information.”

He gave a sniff of his handsome aquiline proboscis and shrugged. “Well, my lady, my powers are not perfect . . .”

But lots of other things about you are.

This time he got his reading right.  “You are feeling frisky this morning in spite of your pain, my lady,” he purred, tilting his head and flashing those excellent white teeth.

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My edit of a screencap via RA Net

“Sooooo—tell me about your–chaste–dream, my lady.”

She sighed and wrapped her arms around her knees, gingerly resting her chin on top. “In the dream, I am acting with the CReAtor . . . me. With Richard Armitage. In some sort of film.” LW gave a small satisfied squee.

“I am playing someone who’d been kidnapped for ransom and it turns out RA is the person who is trying to get me back safely . . .” LW laughed and shrugged.

“Only, what with it being a dream, I do not know the actor will be RA until just before we are to play this scene together in which we are reunited! I look through the glass doors as the wardrobe and makeup people are checking me over and, well–there he is, looking all intense and angsty and, of course, gorgeous in this long navy coat and nape curls and stubble . . . fully in character to shoot this dramatic scene.”

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Photography by Leslie Hassler

Sir Guy folded his arms across his broad chest. “And what do you do when you see it is the CReAtor?”

“I have two immediate thoughts, my dearest dark knight. First–‘OMG, it’s Richard Freakin’ Armitage as my screen partner!’ And second–and this sort of surprises me–I think, ‘Wow, I am SOOO going to act my socks off and impress the heck out of him, oh yes I AM.”  And so I go out there–and I ACT!”

She gave a smile of girlish delight, her eyes sparkling behind her specs. “And you know what? I am good. I really am good. I can tell he thinks so, too.”

LW sighed again, her brow creasing. “I can only hope it’s a good omen for next Thursday–when Emma the tipsy widow and murder victim-to-be makes her debut.”

Ladywriter rubbed her tender jaw. “Things were a bit rocky last night at the rehearsals. I actually did OK–but my cast mates were struggling in the second act. Went through it four times. Made me glad I–uhm, ‘Emma’– was ‘dead’ by then.”

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“Your band of players, you all must believe in yourselves, my lady.” Sir Guy smiled at her. “Not unlike the way you believe–in me.” He gave a courtly bow.  “And, of course, in the CReAtor.”

“Sir Guy–I’d like for you to be there next week. You and Mr. Ladywriter.”

He raised his dark brows. “I do not possess a ticket, and is not the event sold out?”

“Yes–but that’s OK.” She grinned. “I am, after all, the only one who will see you.”

LW leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially. “It will be our little secret.”

Sir Guy chuckled. “Excellent . . .”

Dreams are like boxes of chocolates. You just never know what you are gonna get . . .  Happy Guyday Friday!

I wouldn’t mind dreaming about THIS either . . .

c2guyheartMy edit of an image courtesy of RA Net

What are you like in your dreams?

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What are you like in your dreams? What identity do you wear in your fantasies?  I am almost always younger, invariably thinner, and certainly more healthy. No FMS, no osteoarthritis, no constant aches and pains and weariness. No jiggly parts that shouldn’t jiggle or ever-increasing cellulite. Young enough and fit enough for adventures. Young enough to perhaps catch a certain TDHBEW’s eye . . .and then dazzle him with my wit and charm.

After all, a girl can dream . . .

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Me at 40 on my birthday cruise. Although in my dreams I am in my early 30s–pre knee woes, surgery, lots of PT and FMS, the age I was in the top photo (also on a birthday cruise, seven years earlier).

 

In my dreams  I dance with him, in a way I in my klutziness have never danced in real life, with grace and verve, spinning, skirts flying in the air, laughing merrily. I feel light as a feather instead of weighed down literally and figuratively by the burdens of RL.

I am funny; I make him laugh, too. Big, geeky belly laughs. He sounds so gorgeous when he laughs.

 

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What are you like in your RA dreams? What identity do you wear?

Male eye candy, and not just Richard Armitage: my winding road of dreams.

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Last night (or should I say today, as I couldn’t sleep last night due to knee problems) I had, for once, a good dream. One I didn’t really want to awake from.

It’s not that I have a lot of nightmares, but so many of my nocturnal journeys find me in difficult situations that leave me frustrated and exhausted before I even wake up. And often they do involve journeys, in cars, on buses, by foot, on trains  . . . even inside these huge houses that seem to go on forever.  And I never arrive at my destination . . .

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                                                                                                    “Winding Road” by James Jordan

But this dream was pure physical pleasure. Involving 18th century costume and Alexander Skarsgard. Alex is actually a (unusual-for-me blonde) bit on the side for me in terms of actor crushes.

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The ones where I win the lottery, have a truckload of new books delivered, or enjoy sexy time with delectable guys. You know, the good ones.

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He’s not RA, but I could think of much worse males to have a sexy dream about than Mr. Skarsgard. Who is apparently a big sweet goofball in real life. My kind of guy.

I  recently saw some previews of an upcoming movie he’s in and I can only assume that’s why Askar visited me in my dreams rather than Mr. Armitage.  The 18th century costume has to relate to my novel. It has been stagnating of late in terms of actual productivity, yet my dashing highwayman is never far from my subconscious, it seems.

And then I saw this late this afternoon and it spurred a few fantasies about Mr. Armitage and chest hairs. RA with Todd Snyder in NYC, courtesy of Instagram:

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OK, jacket needs unzipping as the shirt looks a bit silly sticking out at bottom. Otherwise, loving the beard’s return (sorry, Judi) and while startled by that extra button being undone–we don’t usually see this much of his chest when he’s wearing a shirt–really admiring the scenery. Wanting to bury my face in that manly chest.  And sigh a deep, happy sigh.

Was he at Todd’s atelier trying out yet MORE leather jackets (how many DO you own at this point, Rich??) picking up some new threads before heading back to the other side of the world? Did he change shirts/do up one of those buttons/doff the TS jacket before hitting the streets again?

As I suggested at Twitter, he is more than welcome to swing by here the next couple of days if he needs a taste of summer–mid-80s. Mind you, he’d need to bring some (tight-fitting) short-sleeved shirts the better to ogle his biceps in so he can be nice and cool in the warm weather.

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Richard reading lines and providing us with an awesome screencap of Manly Beauty here.

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Something with a V-neck would be ideal. Chest hair, you know. Bring the shades, too, that sun is fierce.

And what will I dream when I finally fall asleep? Who knows . . . but I wish you all sweet ones when next you sleep, wherever you are.

Sunday SmoRgAsbord: Fedoralady’s RA dReAms

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‘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.

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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?

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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.

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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.

Dreams and Castles in the Air

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Nearly 1,300 words written in the last couple of hours. This is good. I just might get the revision of the revision of my novel completed by late October as hoped.  Life has had a way of “happening when I’ve been busy making other plans,” so we shall see. 

Still, I am feeling hopeful. Maybe it’s the freshly shampooed hair. The fact Puddie is still hanging in there (although I can’t believe she turned up her charming little nose at the small dish of Blue Bell homemade Vanilla ice cream her daddy served her earlier. She really isn’t feeling well).

Time for a little poetry, methinks, courtesy of American poet, playwright and social activist Langston Hughes.

English:

English: (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Dreams

Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird

That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go

Life is a barren field

Frozen with snow.

We all need dreams, no matter what our ages or circumstances may be. We need our castles in the air.

courtesy of amarettogirl.com

I think we can safely say Richard Armitage has built a solid foundation for his particular castles in the air.  And we reap the benefits. Long may he keep building.  Thank you, Richard, for never giving up on your dreams and aspirations.

OT: Pampering Your Inner Princess, Indulging Your Dreams

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I did something earlier tonight I haven’t done in quite a while. I took a nice, relaxing bubble bath. When I was a child, I loved a product called Mr. Bubble, which has been around a little longer as I have.

One of my childhood favs. Now I like to imagine playing with Dirty Wild Man Guy (S3 style) and then cleaning him up in a nice fragrant bubble bath. Now THAT would make bathtime FUN.

Lacking anything with a big smiling pink bubble on the front, I made do with the last remnants of my mango splash cocoa butter body wash, which produced some fragrant bubbles. I certainly did not look as glamorous whilst bathing as these ladies–I believe I recognize Hollywood stars Jeanne Crain and Greer Garson soaking in these tubs–but I feel clean and soft, I smell nice and my legs are definitely smoother. Amazing how a bit of pampering and grooming can make a girl feel, isn’t it?

(courtesy of cuddlycomments.com)

On those rare occasions when I do take a bubble bath, I also like to read whilst I soak (some relaxing music and candles are also nice, but I just stuck with the read tonight).

Tonight’s choice was one I like to re-read from time to time, “Gin” Sanders’ Wear More Cashmere.

Sanders encourages us to pamper our inner princesses, as the lovely Greer and Jeanne appear to be doing here. The book offers 151 ways to do so and I thought it might be fun from time to time to share some of Gin’s suggestions with you all.

Number 6: Indulge Your Dreams

Sweet dreams are made of these. Keeping a journal of our nocturnal adventures can help kickstart our daytime creativity.

“Every night when you close your eyes and dream, an incredible thing happens.  You become writer, producer, director,  wardrobe manager, scenery director and location scout, effortlessly producing mini-movies all night long. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you could tap into one-tenth of that creativity in your waking hours?

Alas, even the most vivid dreams fade after a few hours–unless, of course, you write them down. Create a beautiful dream journal. Buy the fanciest, most gold-encrusted portfolio there is, and fill its pages with your own dream productions. Every morning upon waking . . . run back over what your mind produced the night before.

Don’t try to understand them; this is not analysis. It is merely a record of what your own luxurious imagination is capable of producing when you aren’t watching. And the more you can accumulate waking evidence of what your mind can produce, the more confident you’ll be when you need to tap into creativity during work hours.”~Jennifer “Gin” Sanders, Wear More Cashmere

Wishing you all lots of delightful, sweet, entertaining and inspiring dreams.