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Maybe because of my previous post, I don't know, I had a very vivid David Tennant dream last night. It was so perfectly detailed that I woke up and then fell back asleep and went straight back into it. Don't worry, it is totally G-Rated, but so...uhm...detailed and weird.
It seems I was part of this Doctor Who type tour in the UK, maybe it was Cardiff, I don't know. It was me and about four or five teenagers from around the world and our tour guide. A freakishly horrible storm hit, the kind that make everything dark as night, and we took shelter in one of the studio buildings. A few other people joined us as the storm increased, David, Georgia, a female buddy of theirs and a studio person, maybe an agent. The kids and myself were all suitably star-struck for a bit, but then it got terribly boring and Georgia was soaked to the skin, so we all started to think of things we might do to keep busy and warm. Georgia, who I wanted to dislike but just couldn't, organized this rehearsal from a script she had in her bag. Everyone took a part. I didn't want to participate because I was so shy and felt like an old lady in the group, but David insisted I play this American bimbo with like 4-lines. I suffered my usual stage-fright over that idea, shaking and sweating and planning to stutter. So, I slunk off to practice by myself.
David shows up in my corner and tries to get me to enjoy myself because, come on, it is not like this is much of an audience. The teens and Georgia and the other adults are giggling and having a great time and I'm feeling like a loser for being grumpy. I'm also thinking I could use some mouthwash if David Tennant is going to be sitting that close to me for an hour. But I get into the spirit of things and tell him I want to be a television writer and suggest that what the script needs is a rewrite from me, rather than my acting skills. We play this rewriting game, having a great time of it, until we are called back to the group. I still don't know my lines, but David cons me into playing the bimbo, anyway, by slipping a note of encouragement into my pocket and by telling me I'm the only American.
Anyway, hilarity ensues with the play, and then I wake up, thinking...oh, crap, it wasn't real. Only later, when I fall asleep again, I go straight back to the studio and the storm. It is later in the day and the lights have gone and all of us are playing word and card games around a single lantern at a table. I sit with David on one side and Georgia on the other and again, she is super sweet and I imagine having to write up the encounter for my blog and how fangirl I will sound about it if I sing Georgia's praises. She is all shivery and cold so I lend her my jacket. And she talks to me about Olive and trying to find work and her Dad and I really like her. Meanwhile, David and I get quite competitive about the games, but we are cracking up every few minutes because we are so obviously working together against everyone else. Until the studio people show up and grab David for some voice over work.
Belatedly being all fangirlish, I'm thinking I need pictures, even though I was shy about being IN any of the pictures the other girls took earlier. Some of the girls have cameras, but, because this is a dream, mine won't work. And I think, dang, I won't be able to prove any of this happened if they don't send me copies or take my picture. Georgia and David are saying goodbye to each of us. I'm all sad about it because I wish I could stay in touch with them and David leans over close to my ear and says, "Look in your pocket."
Then, David and Georgia are gone, studio people herding them away as I search all of my pockets, thinking maybe he left me an autograph. Finally, I find this folded page of notebook paper in my jacket. I look at it in astonishment, not comprehending at first. It has all of these industry contact numbers scribbled on it and I am thrilled with how sweet he is and want to say thanks. But, since it is now post storm, everyone is out and about and he's in star player mode. I run after him but all I get is he turns around and smiles from within his nest of people. So, I'm thinking I won't be able to ever speak to him again, when I see that he's also included his cell number in the corner of the paper with the words, "Me (his number, which I wish I could remember :grin:). I'll be expecting you."
Nice dream, yes? I was so upset when I woke up again and it STILL wasn't real. LOL
It seems I was part of this Doctor Who type tour in the UK, maybe it was Cardiff, I don't know. It was me and about four or five teenagers from around the world and our tour guide. A freakishly horrible storm hit, the kind that make everything dark as night, and we took shelter in one of the studio buildings. A few other people joined us as the storm increased, David, Georgia, a female buddy of theirs and a studio person, maybe an agent. The kids and myself were all suitably star-struck for a bit, but then it got terribly boring and Georgia was soaked to the skin, so we all started to think of things we might do to keep busy and warm. Georgia, who I wanted to dislike but just couldn't, organized this rehearsal from a script she had in her bag. Everyone took a part. I didn't want to participate because I was so shy and felt like an old lady in the group, but David insisted I play this American bimbo with like 4-lines. I suffered my usual stage-fright over that idea, shaking and sweating and planning to stutter. So, I slunk off to practice by myself.
David shows up in my corner and tries to get me to enjoy myself because, come on, it is not like this is much of an audience. The teens and Georgia and the other adults are giggling and having a great time and I'm feeling like a loser for being grumpy. I'm also thinking I could use some mouthwash if David Tennant is going to be sitting that close to me for an hour. But I get into the spirit of things and tell him I want to be a television writer and suggest that what the script needs is a rewrite from me, rather than my acting skills. We play this rewriting game, having a great time of it, until we are called back to the group. I still don't know my lines, but David cons me into playing the bimbo, anyway, by slipping a note of encouragement into my pocket and by telling me I'm the only American.
Anyway, hilarity ensues with the play, and then I wake up, thinking...oh, crap, it wasn't real. Only later, when I fall asleep again, I go straight back to the studio and the storm. It is later in the day and the lights have gone and all of us are playing word and card games around a single lantern at a table. I sit with David on one side and Georgia on the other and again, she is super sweet and I imagine having to write up the encounter for my blog and how fangirl I will sound about it if I sing Georgia's praises. She is all shivery and cold so I lend her my jacket. And she talks to me about Olive and trying to find work and her Dad and I really like her. Meanwhile, David and I get quite competitive about the games, but we are cracking up every few minutes because we are so obviously working together against everyone else. Until the studio people show up and grab David for some voice over work.
Belatedly being all fangirlish, I'm thinking I need pictures, even though I was shy about being IN any of the pictures the other girls took earlier. Some of the girls have cameras, but, because this is a dream, mine won't work. And I think, dang, I won't be able to prove any of this happened if they don't send me copies or take my picture. Georgia and David are saying goodbye to each of us. I'm all sad about it because I wish I could stay in touch with them and David leans over close to my ear and says, "Look in your pocket."
Then, David and Georgia are gone, studio people herding them away as I search all of my pockets, thinking maybe he left me an autograph. Finally, I find this folded page of notebook paper in my jacket. I look at it in astonishment, not comprehending at first. It has all of these industry contact numbers scribbled on it and I am thrilled with how sweet he is and want to say thanks. But, since it is now post storm, everyone is out and about and he's in star player mode. I run after him but all I get is he turns around and smiles from within his nest of people. So, I'm thinking I won't be able to ever speak to him again, when I see that he's also included his cell number in the corner of the paper with the words, "Me (his number, which I wish I could remember :grin:). I'll be expecting you."
Nice dream, yes? I was so upset when I woke up again and it STILL wasn't real. LOL