riverdresses: (☂ a beauty like brittle bones)
(one day, we're going to curb my tumblr obsession. today is not that day, however.)

I had the strangest dreams while I was asleep. My father teaching a class of people I knew from art school, Florence Welch & her nonexistent husband giving me a lovely hat & me crying over her describing how she dances, & even some almost-indescribable Star Trek-related dreams.

The best one involved me walking back to downtown San Francisco (only, of course, it wasn't really) from another city one would have to drive to in the waking world. I waked through a shop & then across the street into what was almost certainly some part of China (I almost wanted to write downtown China because that's the only way I could describe it), but was really just downtown San Francisco somehow.

I walked into this place that might have been a train station or a restaurant of some kind . . . sort of like what they have at aeroports. I got into this sort of elevator-cum-glass train that went all through the city of sorts, past all of the huge exhibitions & even around these sort of huge steamboats full of tourists. We went up & down, in insane dream-physics - I think at one point we were holding onto lines & kept swooping up & down around all the people on the boat.

I just remember being up in the air a lot then. & being around water. & the boats, & the old man who found it all very amusing.

At one point, I went through this sort of . . . extended lobby of sorts. An atrium. A plaza. I don't know. It was just long & extended & beautiful. Blacks & whites & tiled surfaces & fountains in some places. I was told that they were all different hotels, some very old & some a bit less older. I must have passed through at least two, maybe three.

There was another place I passed through, after the hotels. It was an old theatre, I think, or possibly the inside of one. (I don't know if it was a cinema or a proper theatre. It might have been a cinema.)

The young (& yes, fairly attractive) fellow who was sort of guiding what I was riding on told me a story about it. I only remember pieces of it, but it involved the man who'd built it & who loved a beautiful girl who was either a flapper-actress or a ballerina. It was now haunted by their spirits, or possibly only by his; I do not recall.

The dream then became the inside of the walls of where we were, where there was a picture of her & sepia-tea-toned lighting. I think we both fell through several levels of the walls before, at some point, we became (or were possessed, perhaps) the two lovers from the past. We fucked madly on the broken, unsanded wood of the walls, trying to hold onto each other & stay in these bodies.

The rest of the dream is a haphazard mess beyond that - it became a Sir John Tenniel Alice in Wonderland illustration, with me living in a tree trunk & having some sort of dream-life version of Beauty & the Beast. I don't remember a thing beyond that, save for everything looking like one of his illustrations & living in a tree trunk.


☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

I don't think that I mentioned in my last post that I'm planning on going on holiday to Providence, Rhode Island in November. I'm hoping to be gone at least a week & to leave on Halloween. While I'm there I'm also hoping to go to Boston, since I'll be reasonably close by.

This is basically my Lovecraft Country Tour '11. & my first time travelling on my own. But I'm really looking forward to it! The only thing I'm a bit saddened by is that I don't know anyone to go visit & have fabulous shenanigans with whilst I'm there. O, well. I suppose I'll have to learn to make my own fun this time. ♥
riverdresses: (space • riverdresses)
[riverdresses] finds that maybe very little, at least to her slightly cosseted eyes, is as lovely as her seven-mile candyfloss sky world is at post-rain . . . autumnal sunset. It's a night for hot tea, a viewing of Withnail & I, & writing. A double-looped scarf & jumper set for her mind. what makes up YOUR mind's double-looped scarf & jumper sets? She's curious!
I wrote that through the late afternoon to the early evening on my Twitter & realised that it would be a lovely thing to include in the third issue of my zine, riverdresses.

Basically, I want to know, as I said, what comforts you on cold days?

What makes up your happiest moments?

If you could, what would be the ideal things for your ideal autumnal/springy/summery/wintry days & nights?

In the darkest nights, on the coldest, stormiest days, what makes up the ideal scarf & jumper (sweater, for you non-Brits reading this!) set for your mind?

I would adore as many submissions as I could get - submit more than once if you like! - & if I get quite a few, I'll move this idea into the fourth issue of riverdresses, or make it a regular feature, possibly. Just leave me your preferred moniker/nom de plume/name so I can add it in properly!

Also, feel free to spread this around to anyone else you think would like to add something! The more, the merrier! (& I confess, I'm just dying to know some of your responses! I'll be sharing my own as well, so don't think I'll just be sitting & watching you all!)

xoxo
Betsy


(p.s. you totally don't have to answer all of them like that - have fun & be creative, darlings!)

abandon hope all who enter here

Elizabeth (Betsy). Twenty-two, almost twenty-three, but perpetually seventeen. Whirls back & forth between vulgarity & delicacies like a dervish proper & has been known to disappear for months on end. Worshipper of Carroll, devotee of Lovecraft & BPAL hoarder absolute. Destined for the madhouse.

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