|Image Description: The word "Firefly" |
against a parchment background written in a
golden illuminated flowing cursive script
Plus I'm trying to write some fiction in the last few days of promoting my Kickstarter so I can point to those stories and say, "See look, I can write if you give me a chance."
That means we have also achieved peak JAZZ HANDS!!!
As usual, I will do everything in my power not to put the blog on hiatus or miss days, but it could get a little fluffy around here on T-W-Th for the next few weeks. Once some of these stressors start clearing out, and my Kickstarter is over, I will begin bringing all systems back online one by one.
In the meantime, I'm going to tell you about a dream. Actually, I'll probably tell you about it on Thursday (since right now I'm still short a guest blog post). But in order to appreciate it, the first thing you have to know is that I started to have Firefly dreams about three years ago, and this was the first one:
I was a member of the crew (during the show, not post-movie) so the whole ship was alive. And I remember having this sense that I wasn't exactly sure what I DID in this group. I mean Jayne was the gun guy and there was a medic and the spiritual guidance, but I didn't seem to have any particular niche.
We were searching this huge, ostentatious house for the bits to what I think will make the Lassiter actual function (dream logic got a little fuzzy on the details here but the fencing value would skyrocket if we could get it working.) Of course, being the hardened criminals we are, we each have our bags of...um....not so laser-gun spoils that we've collected from around the house. While Jayne has quite the collection of foodstuffs and a pair of pistols named Castor and Pollux (NO idea where the fuck in my brain THAT came from), I have gathered up e-readers and fuzzy blankets. Inara had two objects d'art that she had actually recognized. Kaylee was trying to wheel a swanky toolbox from the workshop.
Mal starts to round us up and tells us it's time to go with a fairly huge sense of urgency. Everyone's asking him if he heard that the police were coming on the wave or something, and he just keeps saying no but hurrying us on. "Mission's over. Because I said so. Any folk don't wanna get left, get back to Serenity double take."
I asked him what was the damned rush, and he looks at me: "You are. You're the truthsome liar. You gotta wake up and get to writing so that folks like me can make a go of it. It's time."
And then I woke.
To be continued.....