A Dream About Alexander Skarsgård

I was going to the mall, to an opening of a new Bath & Body Works (in case there aren't any in Europe, they're basically a store that carries bath and body care products), which took over a bookstore or something along those lines. Because this is a weird dream, I also have to bring a "housewarming gift" with me.

Once at the mall, I go into what is supposed to be the store, but it's an office space. You have to wait for someone from the store itself to open the doors for you, so you can go in (weird, but just you wait). I walk into the store, which is a bluish color, and full of little lip balms in baskets. I am carrying around my "housewarming gift," as a male associate makes his way towards me. He had greeted me when I came in, and was very interested in me. I just got that vibe from him in the dream, especially with how he looked at me or spoke to me. I hand him the basket, but not before removing my own items that I had left inside it.

This is where things get interesting:

Alexander is standing outside the storefront, staring at me and the associate through a blue plate-glass window. He is apparently my boyfriend, and he runs off, causing me to chase him. I am yelling for him to stop running, but he's feet ahead of me (on account of his being 6'4" to my short 5'5" height). He turns to me as he's running, and chucks the green apple he'd been eating at me. It hits me in the forearm, which instantly bruises me.

"Alex! Do you realize those damn apples hurt?"

He just keeps running. By this point, the store associate has caught up with me, and continues running after Alexander (because I have slowed down to check on my arm); screaming that he ought to come back and apologize. Alex takes another apple he was eating as he ran, and throws it at the guy from Bath & Body Works, who has the same reaction as me.

It was after this, I awoke.

I am going to analyze this. I may post the results.

March 16 Dream

Well after quite a period of nothingness, I finally had a dream. I think it was fueled by St. Patrick's Day, a certain Irish actor I admire tweeting me on Twitter as well as leaving a comment on a blog of mine, and just good vibes altogether. I haven't analyzed this dream, since it seems pretty straightforward.

5:33am

I am at home, talking to my mom and folding laundry or something to that extent. My dad isn't home. My mom is going on and on about something that my dad did to piss her off. We anticipate that dad will be home soon, and I see my soon-to-be-twenty-year old sister driving off to get breakfast or dinner, an action we know will piss off dad. It's dark outside, so it could be morning or night.

We're in our house in Littleton, so I can see a truck enter the driveway (we're in the first bedroom I moved into when we moved into the house, and I overlooked the driveway). My mom is still talking, as I am heading down the hallway, trying to tell her someone is coming to the door. The staircase is long and winding, like the staircase in the house I currently live in. I go out the front door, and pop my head around the corner of the house, calling the guy. Kelsey (my youngest sister) had warned me he was "hot."

He comes around the corner, and I get a better look at him, and he's smiling at me, and I share my sister's opinion. 

"That's not the front door," I smile warmly. He follows me into the house, and now we're in another house I've never lived in. We'd just received new furniture, and he's come to inspect it because my mom called about a problem. Kelsey disappeared, because she's in pajamas. There's pamphlet-like ads strewn about the living room, and my mom has magically turned into her cordial self.

The guy comes into the living room, taking one look at the furniture, and says, "Yeah, someone's messed with it." Kelsey pokes her head in to look at him, and I am neatly trying to stack those pamphlet-things that are all over the coffee table.  Just as he tries to talk to me, I wake up.

-Fin-

My youngest sister and I at Lake Willoughby in 2008, right before we moved back to the West Coast.