Sunday, March 16, 2014

Nathan Fillion's creamy dream-butt

Well, I just woke up from an intense dream about spanking Nathan Fillion's sublime butt and saving him from his cutting habit. 

I have no idea why my brain went there. He comes across as quite well adjusted, to me. I think my social media time is confusing me - too much spanking, Nathan Fillion and agonised teens earnest emoting, perhaps. There were no kittens in the dream, though... 

So, wanna hear? I went from some anxiety dream about trying to make 16 cups of tea for strangers in my house, and only getting as far as pouring one incredibly satisfying one for myself (even though I don't like it much, in reality) and sort of giving up, before finding myself in a car trying to get somewhere, but driving into a sort of forest park/playground place by accident and then showing up at a hotel/hospital full of famous people and security, with a back pack and an ID card that I think was my social security card? which allowed me to go find a very nervous Alison Hannigan, waiting to interview Nathan Fillion. 

He was a young Nathan Fillion, rather than his current mature and wise self, all cocky and flirty and edgy and there was a weird energy between him and AH. All sorts of odd stuff, but we ended up finding razors he refused to relinquish and AH froze because it was dragging her back into her own cutting past... or so it seemed. It somehow got to the point where he was naked and taking up the offer/threat of a spanking with alacrity. His dream butt was so sweet and soft and firm and fine, and when I said something along the lines of, oh you have such a perfect butt, Nathan Fillion, he was all 'mwaha, I know' in smug tones. I kissed it. Sigh... and spanked it a little uncertaintly because I didn't know what he wanted, really. And he wriggled around a lot :) 

Then the cutting stuff got worse, and he refused to stop, and we left him a note, and left I think... I'm losing the details now. I ended up in a bar, writing him a sad and poetic note of encouragement, in tea, with a fountain pen, on the floor (yep, it's a dream, remember?). He showed up and stood just in my line of vision, and I kept going til I was finished, then found him all wounded and repentent. 

I embraced him, and the waitress came along and we ordered a barrel of Pino Grigio and two Superquinn cheese board suppers (??), which is making me giggle, and there was a happy ending. A barrel of wine will do that, I guess. 

It was very filmy, with much more beginning and end than my dreams usually have. Why all the tea? And a barrel of wine? Perhaps just because I woke up needing to pee... bless you subconcious, you communicate in such funny ways.