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Two separate dreams last night.
In the first, I was e-mailing some online friends, proposing a sf writing challenge, instead of just posting to the list (stupid me) I accidentally included, in that list, a research group from college. After sending out one e-mail explaining the challenge was to write something tonight, and then we'd all vote on the best something that got written, I sent out another three to clarify. One clarified that it could be anything written, or about a specific fandom. Then there was one entitled PS- reminding about something else I don't remember know. ANd there was a PPS- explaining yet something else I don't remember. Then (actual online friend) VATERGrrl replied to us all with two different pieces. I was overjoyed. But before I could read them, I got an e-mail from a guy named Ryan from my college research group saying he didn't understand these e-mails I was sending. I was terrified and embarrassed! Then I got a similar e-mail from Aaron (both of whom were actually in my research group). I was in the middle of composing a careful apology and hiding under the bed when I woke up.
In my second dream, there was some sort of contest where people were in round three of elimination (I was a contestant). I knew at the time what the first two rounds were about, and what it was for... and I'd even been through it before and made it to a final round at least. But I can't remember any of that now. Round three was "new" according to the instructor. The idea was to get eleven other people to sign cards for you. The people who got the most would go on to the next round. Well, most of the other contestants were all snobs, like the stuck up, too-good-for-you people in grade school. Everyone was assigned a three-letter title. And we were required to at least get the card signed (by making an X- which I realize now could easily have been forged! LOL!) by one particular person. I had to get mine signed by DEA. But we didn't know who everyone was, and the hand-written chart up on the blackboard was crap to follow, and the guy in charge didn't give us cards (there were some paper towels stacked on the far side of the table- two long school cafeteria-type tables- that had folds so that they were the right size for the cards used in the demonstration. Only the "cool" people had access to them at first, putting me at a disadvantage, and then people just started working on the challenge and the guy didn't even announce it was time to start. So I went around asking, unable to find a person with DEA designation. I made X's for people on two cards, and got my piece of paper towel ready for DEA to sign. But no one would listen to me. THey were all in a big group, signing each other's, but I wasn't allowed to get others' signatures until I got DEA's first. I started yelling over their noise for DEA, and some guy tried to help me out calling out "Hey, this girl's looking for a DEA?" but to no avail. I finally found this guy named Casey (who was in my 3rd grade class) sitting at the other table with some other people who weren't even trying. I got Casey's X under my DEA header (blue marker, kind of sloppy, but readable!) and I tried to get the signatures of the other people sitting there, uncaring. But none were stupid enough to do it. Then time was up and I returned to my seat, dreading elimination. And I woke up.
In the first, I was e-mailing some online friends, proposing a sf writing challenge, instead of just posting to the list (stupid me) I accidentally included, in that list, a research group from college. After sending out one e-mail explaining the challenge was to write something tonight, and then we'd all vote on the best something that got written, I sent out another three to clarify. One clarified that it could be anything written, or about a specific fandom. Then there was one entitled PS- reminding about something else I don't remember know. ANd there was a PPS- explaining yet something else I don't remember. Then (actual online friend) VATERGrrl replied to us all with two different pieces. I was overjoyed. But before I could read them, I got an e-mail from a guy named Ryan from my college research group saying he didn't understand these e-mails I was sending. I was terrified and embarrassed! Then I got a similar e-mail from Aaron (both of whom were actually in my research group). I was in the middle of composing a careful apology and hiding under the bed when I woke up.
In my second dream, there was some sort of contest where people were in round three of elimination (I was a contestant). I knew at the time what the first two rounds were about, and what it was for... and I'd even been through it before and made it to a final round at least. But I can't remember any of that now. Round three was "new" according to the instructor. The idea was to get eleven other people to sign cards for you. The people who got the most would go on to the next round. Well, most of the other contestants were all snobs, like the stuck up, too-good-for-you people in grade school. Everyone was assigned a three-letter title. And we were required to at least get the card signed (by making an X- which I realize now could easily have been forged! LOL!) by one particular person. I had to get mine signed by DEA. But we didn't know who everyone was, and the hand-written chart up on the blackboard was crap to follow, and the guy in charge didn't give us cards (there were some paper towels stacked on the far side of the table- two long school cafeteria-type tables- that had folds so that they were the right size for the cards used in the demonstration. Only the "cool" people had access to them at first, putting me at a disadvantage, and then people just started working on the challenge and the guy didn't even announce it was time to start. So I went around asking, unable to find a person with DEA designation. I made X's for people on two cards, and got my piece of paper towel ready for DEA to sign. But no one would listen to me. THey were all in a big group, signing each other's, but I wasn't allowed to get others' signatures until I got DEA's first. I started yelling over their noise for DEA, and some guy tried to help me out calling out "Hey, this girl's looking for a DEA?" but to no avail. I finally found this guy named Casey (who was in my 3rd grade class) sitting at the other table with some other people who weren't even trying. I got Casey's X under my DEA header (blue marker, kind of sloppy, but readable!) and I tried to get the signatures of the other people sitting there, uncaring. But none were stupid enough to do it. Then time was up and I returned to my seat, dreading elimination. And I woke up.
