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Yesterday: After work, I rode the Metro to the Woodley Park station in Adam's Morgan, and from there, I walked all the way across the bridge with the lions to the Washington Hilton (aka the Hinkley Hilton) to meet Adam as he was wrapping up his shift at a job site. I could have gone to the Dupont Circle station instead, but I honestly didn't know. Walking that long way south on Connecticut Avenue -- across a bridge, no less, when one has a fear of both falling and drowning -- is interesting. Adam was supervising some fancy conference meeting that was using eight of his company's laptops. So I joined him in the back of the room, and for the next hour I read my book (Emerald Magic, a collection of short stories about the magic of Ireland) while Adam played Civilization on his laptop, only once having to get up to help someone.
We decided not to see Jason play after all -- Adam found out that he'd have to be in again at six-thirty. In the morning. So, we left the massive Hilton and headed back to Maryland and home, where I of course had my little stress attack and got bitchy and then got better. I'd had shrimp marinated in garlic butter, after all.
Strange dreams all night. I was a half-Sidhe Druid healer and warrior with special powers, and was assigned to a town where the dead came to life every Tuesday night. I had to zap them back to the grave before they took over the town and started eating people. Along the way, I met a young woman who also had supernatural powers, looking for mentoring. I took her under my wing and introduced her to my own mentor, a middle-aged voodoo priestess. Around that time, the zombies started breaking loose, so I'd lift my hands to the sky, shout some Gaelic incanation, and call bolts of lightning that would incinerate them two or three at a time. I had to work, fast; there were hundreds. My new apprentice was very helpful. She could shoot fire from her fingertips.
As we fought side by side, I told her that my husband had been killed a year ago by darker magics, and I had vowed to avenge him by helping those in need (the standard Hero With A Cause thing). I kept our wedding rings locked in a box enchanted with faerie magic (by no coincidence, the electrum eternity-trinity knot Celtic rings that Adam and I will have as our rings -- apparently, we were married in the dream. My husband, also a half-Sidhe with powers, had gone off to do hero things and, while he normally was able to fight off anything and heal himself and even bring himself back from death, with my help, something happened that destroyed him, or so I'd learned. In any case, I'd sensed our bonded souls rip apart when he died, even though I'd never seen him die). I told her that the rings themselves held the power to change reality for humans and fae, but needed to be worn by two people with one soul, as we had been. (great storyline concept; gotta remember that).
So, anyway, we were fighting like Buffy channeling the X-Men. And then, suddenly, in the midst of burning corpses, a man walked toward us and started clapping appreciatively.
At this point, I was outside of my dreamself, like watching a movie. I was at the side of the younger girl, while she was pulled aside by the voodoo priestess (who'd been watching). We watched as the heroine turned white as a sheet and screamed and dropped to her knees. The man approaching was very tall, very broad-shouldered, with bright blue eyes and brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, dressed in black jeans and a teal short-sleeved shirt (the dream representative of Adam, of course). "Nice work, my love," he was saying with a smirk, "you should've saved some for me."
The girl leaned toward the priestess. "Who is that?" she whispered.
The priestess just grinned and said, "Oh, that's her husband. He came back."
And then the dream ended.
Damn it. *grumble*
It puzzles me sometimes. I have no Irish blood in me, but I have Irish magic. I have Romanian blood, and Romanian magic, so that makes sense, but I'd love to know where the Celtic came from. Maybe past lives. Over the years, Charlotte, Adam, Bill, Tish, Jinx, Cat, and Corrinne have all told me that I've always been a faerie witch. Hell, maybe that dream reflected something.
We decided not to see Jason play after all -- Adam found out that he'd have to be in again at six-thirty. In the morning. So, we left the massive Hilton and headed back to Maryland and home, where I of course had my little stress attack and got bitchy and then got better. I'd had shrimp marinated in garlic butter, after all.
Strange dreams all night. I was a half-Sidhe Druid healer and warrior with special powers, and was assigned to a town where the dead came to life every Tuesday night. I had to zap them back to the grave before they took over the town and started eating people. Along the way, I met a young woman who also had supernatural powers, looking for mentoring. I took her under my wing and introduced her to my own mentor, a middle-aged voodoo priestess. Around that time, the zombies started breaking loose, so I'd lift my hands to the sky, shout some Gaelic incanation, and call bolts of lightning that would incinerate them two or three at a time. I had to work, fast; there were hundreds. My new apprentice was very helpful. She could shoot fire from her fingertips.
As we fought side by side, I told her that my husband had been killed a year ago by darker magics, and I had vowed to avenge him by helping those in need (the standard Hero With A Cause thing). I kept our wedding rings locked in a box enchanted with faerie magic (by no coincidence, the electrum eternity-trinity knot Celtic rings that Adam and I will have as our rings -- apparently, we were married in the dream. My husband, also a half-Sidhe with powers, had gone off to do hero things and, while he normally was able to fight off anything and heal himself and even bring himself back from death, with my help, something happened that destroyed him, or so I'd learned. In any case, I'd sensed our bonded souls rip apart when he died, even though I'd never seen him die). I told her that the rings themselves held the power to change reality for humans and fae, but needed to be worn by two people with one soul, as we had been. (great storyline concept; gotta remember that).
So, anyway, we were fighting like Buffy channeling the X-Men. And then, suddenly, in the midst of burning corpses, a man walked toward us and started clapping appreciatively.
At this point, I was outside of my dreamself, like watching a movie. I was at the side of the younger girl, while she was pulled aside by the voodoo priestess (who'd been watching). We watched as the heroine turned white as a sheet and screamed and dropped to her knees. The man approaching was very tall, very broad-shouldered, with bright blue eyes and brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, dressed in black jeans and a teal short-sleeved shirt (the dream representative of Adam, of course). "Nice work, my love," he was saying with a smirk, "you should've saved some for me."
The girl leaned toward the priestess. "Who is that?" she whispered.
The priestess just grinned and said, "Oh, that's her husband. He came back."
And then the dream ended.
Damn it. *grumble*
It puzzles me sometimes. I have no Irish blood in me, but I have Irish magic. I have Romanian blood, and Romanian magic, so that makes sense, but I'd love to know where the Celtic came from. Maybe past lives. Over the years, Charlotte, Adam, Bill, Tish, Jinx, Cat, and Corrinne have all told me that I've always been a faerie witch. Hell, maybe that dream reflected something.
