Today's issue: my aims before I return to uni, my sister's new website and a dream theory

Before leaving Londinium for Sarnia, there were two things I promised to do. The first thing was to finish the cuddly toy Rorschach-es which I offered to make for virtually everyone. I don't mind, but as soon as you have to do something it becomes a commitment - and I'm good at forgetting commitments. I've started planning cuddly Blakes'n'Avons, making ATCs to send to strangers, figuring out how to make the Liberator in origami and even got out my old Rosencrantz'n'Guildenstern costume project as a way of dodging this. They all have nicknames now - there's Fat!Rorschach, Leggy!Rorschach, Headless!Rorschach, and then there's one I actually rather like. Maybe I'll swap the coats around because currently, the better costumes are also on the better dolls. Hmmm...

The second was a movie I promised to watch. I'm a tad depressed abot the prospect, and it's entirely my own fault. It could be great, but if it doesn't float my boat I'm fairly sure I'll either lie blind to the recommender, or to myself until I do like it. I don't object to the morality of this in the slightest - recommending a movie or book to someone who then turns around and tells you they seriously hated it hurts. It's my own gullibility, that I can convince myself of liking pretty much anything depending on the circumstances. Most of the time I feel this is a handy character trait - I feel everything is on some level true, so being able to find the joy in any art/stance/person/whatever is like the ultimate act of open-mindedness. And having a flexible mind with no walls at all has helped me to find many arts/stances/people/whatever that otherwise I might have missed. It's just demoralising to know you are going to like something whether you like it or not. This movie has come to stand for several things I've been musing over anyway, about honesty, insincerity, the ethics of doormatting and the nature of friendship, and it's made me very reluctant to sit down and watch.

The third thing was a promise to myself - to finish my Doctor Who spinoff comic. I knew I wouldn't get all the way through, but I did mean to make headway. BBC screwed that one up because of Certain Announcements made about Christmastime. I know I'm writing something non-canonical, but I'm a total Canon Nazi. Though I am avoiding the word, what I am evidently producing is the Fic of Fans, and the only way I can justify it to myself is through being a complete angel when it comes to continuity. Now I have to wait until New Year to rewrite, and the new episodes will probably invalidate the five pages I have drawn and coloured.

This has all occurred to me now because the deadline has loomed close - the eagle will be flying out of the night on Wednesday morning for my return to Londinium. I have such an action packed day for tomorrow - trying to get more Doctor Who videos into my suitcases, meeting friends for lunch, indulging family at dinner, and on top of all that, two Rorschach coats, three Rorschach hats and one movie to fit in. Can she do it? Frankly, no - the Rorschach hats take about three sessions of fiddling on their own to turn them into something decent. And that's before I have the hugely ethical dilemma of whether to pack them, or more Doctor Who...I've even put more effort into teaching myself Greek than any of these other fun activities!


On a more positive note, it's time for some serious pimpage. My sister and her friend have started up their long-awaited television blogging-and-podcasts blog. Check it out:

http://www.theboxproductions.com/

The pair of them are very obsessed, but also very professional - to a frustrating extent, because I feel much of it lacks a personal touch. I know not everyone blogs like I do, but it needs some flair, some controversy, something that feels like a real opinion. Nevertheless, it's still a beautifully writen and run place, so do me a favour: go and read, and then leave comments. Even if you don't watch the shows or understand the topic under discussion, write something short and generic based on the article which makes it sound like you know what's going on.

Man, I'm getting cynical.

Finally, I'm getting close to a theory about dreams - mine at any rate. I feel the more I understand them, the better chance I have of triggering them. A dream can literally make or
break my day - if I've had a happy dream, I wake up refreshed and bubbly for the rest of the day. If I have a bad one, that's it - I wake up unhappy and under a cloud. So having good dreams is essential to my existance.

Despite missing out on the regular sorts, there are about four or five different genres of dream I recognise as familiar.

I have FandomCrazy dreams. It's part of the obsession process - I now recognise the stages, including the "attempt to make cuddly plushie" period. It's why Blake's 7 counts as a proper Obsession, while the A-Team, Brideshead Revisited or the Prisoner are merely programs I like very much - because I've had That Sort Of Dream for a while now. They come on for about a week minimum, and a month maximum - one every single evening regarding the new obsession. One of the reasons I miss London - don't laugh - is I think I dreamed Doctor Who every single night I was in Hampstead. I kinda hope that'll come back in Acton. They all feel sorta the same, as if they come from the same corner of my mind. I can't explain it - I know science has proved you have different "centres" of your brain, but I'm sure one shouldn't be able to sense that without complicated medical equipment. It's like even when I'm not thinking about it, on some level I still am.

I'm used to these, and cool with them. They're never uncomfortable, unless you count a Doctor Who/Watchmen crossover slash dream which I've still no idea where it came from...they're a symptom of my life, but they're still passive dreams, made up of spare ideas and background noise. My mum thinks dreams are the brain's way of taking out the trash, and I tend to agree.

When I'm not obsessed with something - rarer nowadays - I have endless dreams. They're my usual sort, dream default. The plot goes like this: I am in a strange place, one that doesn't exist in reality. I have to do something - deliver a letter, meet someone, go somewhere - but the dream drifts on without it being resolved. I think it says something about my state of mind. Also, I've a theory based on this that the way we write and the way we dream are closely linked. Situations which look gorgeous but in which nothing happens is my greatest authorial bane. I cannot do plots at all!

But then I have what I'll call healing dreams, and they definitely seem to originate from Somewhere Else in my head. While most dreams are passive noise, these seem like a gift from my brain, that someone has made an active decision. They genuinely feel like something else. For example, I don't feel emotion in dreams, except in these ones. One I particularly remember was at the end of a bad patch. I was sitting on a green hill overlooking a valley and chatting with Guildenstern about something. What I don't know, but I woke up feeling a very particular sort of relaxed and happy. I had another one a few days ago, and it was beautiful. The plan is to learn to trigger these dreams when I need them.

I feel I'm getting somewhere. I'll add more if I think of them.