It was pretty much a gathering of everybody I know. I certainly felt like EVERYONE I knew was there, but I only got to interact/get in adventures with a few people.
All the action went down in or near a huge freaky old house. It was white. On the outside it was a larger version of what I've heard described as a crumbleshack, sort of leaning, maybe in the wind, and alone in a vast rural area. I didn't see it from the outside until later on. On the inside the place was very comfortable with bright windows and open space. At least two stories. Clean. Enough room for, it would seem, EVERYONE I knew.
The first person I definitely ran into was Jesse, who alerted me to her presence with great grace and ladylikeness and we had what I remember was a really wonderful reunion (having not seen each other in a long time), although I don't remember what was said or anything. I think the main point we both drove home was how long it had been.
My conversation with Jesse happened in the basement, and across the room Rob Grieve and Chelsea Very, who I'm sure have never met, were arguing with each other over who was better. I don't think at any one thing in particular. Just who was better. Rob asked for my help a few times, saying "Alev. Come on. I'm better right??" whereon Chelsea would sharply criticise Rob for saying my name wrong.
Paul Woida was also in the basement, and his new way to greet his friends was to lift them o'er his head like the Stanley Cup, and that's how he said hello to me. He had a t-shirt with ALGERNON written on it in large friendly letters.
I then headed upstairs where someone who I believe to be Rob Campeau was shouting "KISS ME!!!" with thespian passion at various guests. I haven't seen you in a while Rob so forgive me if this is all I could dream about.
In the large magnificent kitchen, Kyle Gardiner, Marcus Engel, and Lewis Longard were cooking up a likely incredible dish that I would guess might involve a blowtorch, Sriracha, and noodles, based on the brains involved. Maybe a spicy baked pasta dish! The three of them were having quite a time. But Marcus refused to use any kitchenware that wasn't gold. Lewis sang "Hoist That Rag" by Tom Waits, which I'm not sure he's ever heard.
I hear Paul Woida shout "ALEV COME PLAY WITH THE DOG!!!" from the gigantic sitting room on the same floor. Scores of people were piled into chairs and couches having a rambunctious time, and playing with a golden retriever. I was passed a squeaky toy and this dog, whose name was apparently Rubbish, threw his retrievin eyes on me. So I threw the squeaky toy. It landed behind a big comfy chair by the window and I thought that the dog saw this. But instead he leapt through the (closed) window to give airborne chase to the squeaky toy. I ran to see what he might be landing on, because there was an immediate stir among the sitting room throng. Cries of concern for the defenestrated dog. I looked out the window and saw that the big house was precariously perched on a cliff (what another house-on-a-cliff-related dream of mine would call a grace, "a house on a grace") and our friend Rubbish had been dealt his doggy demise (probably).
Paul Woida was the first to blame me. His humongous Woida eyes dumped soggy guilt onto my Alev heart. I wished I had been the defenestrated one. But Paul agreed to go with me to search for the dog, and so did Maddy Geneau who was there also apparently.
The three of us ventured outside to where everybody was keeping their shoes. I couldn't find mine. And all the other shoes had keys and wallets in them. So I went in my red socks to search for this dog with my two friends who have never met in real life. But we were embarrassed by the dog's name, and after shouting 'Rubbish' a few times with no success we decided to shout something else. I started shouting "ALGERNON," and my friends Paul and Maddy followed, sort of. Paul shouted "ALGERNAN" and Maddy shouted "ALGERNIN" but after a great deal of shouting, the dog, Rubbish/Algernon/an/in, returned completely unharmed, but with no squeaky toy.
All the action went down in or near a huge freaky old house. It was white. On the outside it was a larger version of what I've heard described as a crumbleshack, sort of leaning, maybe in the wind, and alone in a vast rural area. I didn't see it from the outside until later on. On the inside the place was very comfortable with bright windows and open space. At least two stories. Clean. Enough room for, it would seem, EVERYONE I knew.
The first person I definitely ran into was Jesse, who alerted me to her presence with great grace and ladylikeness and we had what I remember was a really wonderful reunion (having not seen each other in a long time), although I don't remember what was said or anything. I think the main point we both drove home was how long it had been.
My conversation with Jesse happened in the basement, and across the room Rob Grieve and Chelsea Very, who I'm sure have never met, were arguing with each other over who was better. I don't think at any one thing in particular. Just who was better. Rob asked for my help a few times, saying "Alev. Come on. I'm better right??" whereon Chelsea would sharply criticise Rob for saying my name wrong.
Paul Woida was also in the basement, and his new way to greet his friends was to lift them o'er his head like the Stanley Cup, and that's how he said hello to me. He had a t-shirt with ALGERNON written on it in large friendly letters.
I then headed upstairs where someone who I believe to be Rob Campeau was shouting "KISS ME!!!" with thespian passion at various guests. I haven't seen you in a while Rob so forgive me if this is all I could dream about.
In the large magnificent kitchen, Kyle Gardiner, Marcus Engel, and Lewis Longard were cooking up a likely incredible dish that I would guess might involve a blowtorch, Sriracha, and noodles, based on the brains involved. Maybe a spicy baked pasta dish! The three of them were having quite a time. But Marcus refused to use any kitchenware that wasn't gold. Lewis sang "Hoist That Rag" by Tom Waits, which I'm not sure he's ever heard.
I hear Paul Woida shout "ALEV COME PLAY WITH THE DOG!!!" from the gigantic sitting room on the same floor. Scores of people were piled into chairs and couches having a rambunctious time, and playing with a golden retriever. I was passed a squeaky toy and this dog, whose name was apparently Rubbish, threw his retrievin eyes on me. So I threw the squeaky toy. It landed behind a big comfy chair by the window and I thought that the dog saw this. But instead he leapt through the (closed) window to give airborne chase to the squeaky toy. I ran to see what he might be landing on, because there was an immediate stir among the sitting room throng. Cries of concern for the defenestrated dog. I looked out the window and saw that the big house was precariously perched on a cliff (what another house-on-a-cliff-related dream of mine would call a grace, "a house on a grace") and our friend Rubbish had been dealt his doggy demise (probably).
Paul Woida was the first to blame me. His humongous Woida eyes dumped soggy guilt onto my Alev heart. I wished I had been the defenestrated one. But Paul agreed to go with me to search for the dog, and so did Maddy Geneau who was there also apparently.
The three of us ventured outside to where everybody was keeping their shoes. I couldn't find mine. And all the other shoes had keys and wallets in them. So I went in my red socks to search for this dog with my two friends who have never met in real life. But we were embarrassed by the dog's name, and after shouting 'Rubbish' a few times with no success we decided to shout something else. I started shouting "ALGERNON," and my friends Paul and Maddy followed, sort of. Paul shouted "ALGERNAN" and Maddy shouted "ALGERNIN" but after a great deal of shouting, the dog, Rubbish/Algernon/an/in, returned completely unharmed, but with no squeaky toy.
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