Here be dragons

I'm in a movie theater with a friend and her family, the place is very baroque with red velvet drapes; it looks like it was used as a traditional theater before. We find a booth large enough for all of us, in front of the candy shop. I sit first, and by the time everyone is seated the place has completly changed; it's now some kind of fair, and we're sitting in a marquee sourronding a sandy area where the show is suppose to be. The sun is high in the sky and very harsh, we can see the dust moving in the hot breeze and every shadow is razor sharp. I realize that my frieand and her family are gone; I'm with a man. He got a mop of dark, curly, greased hair that enphasizes his tan, rugged face and light eyes. He's dressed like a ranch hand, in solid clothes and cowboy boots, but with silver and leather necklaces and a lot of rings. The actors of the show are finally here, but they start arguing immediatly and the show is cancelled.
I'm in a dusty building that looks like a cement square, worn by wind and dust. It's big but lousy, with run down furnitures and dirty corner. I remember that's it's our QG, and we're a buch of bandits and desesperados. There is a very winded argument about some musicians coming in, I'm not sure if they want to come to play or just to repeat. Anyway our boss, the man that was with me at the fair is saying no, but the three girls (me, a sleek hispanic lady in a long leather coat and a big, burly and fat older lady) are pressing for the musicians to come. As I'm the boss' "pretty doll", I figure that nothing will get under his skin more that grabbing the front of another man shirt and kiss him. Say man is tall and broad shouldered, with tan skin and cropped short hair. He doesn't mind the kiss at all, and my boss do little more than grumbling. I push it by snuggling against my new friend large torso with a cheeking smile. I grab his neck to pull him down to my level and whisper in his ear, asking him if the guitars' room is open. I get a eager yes and grab his wrist to go there. I giggle while running through the old facility, made of interconnected buildings like the one we just left. My new beau start to get impatient and push me against a wall, pulling me up, the coarse cement scratching my back where my shirt is lifted. I scramble to catch his shoulders... And wake up.

Well, damn.

I may or may not have browsed baking blog before going to bed.

I'm flying in the night sky. A light catches my attention and I fall in a restaurant. It's brightly lit and there's gilded wood panels and bright red drapes on the walls. The place is full, everybody talking in low voice making a soothing background sound. I'm steered to one of the round, white linen-covered tables, to site in a red velvet chair. I'm sharing the table with Eli, who is, for once, sharply dressed. The waiter give us a plate of very thin wheat noodles with caramel pork. The noodles have a nice chew, the pork is very salty and sweet, with a glossy, sticky sauce. After that, we're served warm brioche with heavy cream and fresh strawberries. The cream and strawberries are almost cold, contrasting nicely with the soft, buttery, warm brioche. The cream is tangy, the strawberries taste like wild ones but are as big as regular strawberries. It's a delicious meal, and I enjoy the compagny.

Aaand I made myself hungry.

Still hard to breath when sleeping on my back.

I am a very young vampire, my sire, my creator, il a dignified, older italian gentleman with salt and pepper hairs and a tan, rough skin. His wrinkles show that he laughs more that he frown, and I care about him and my vampire siblings. He is hurt, and has to rest on his bed. We're all around him, and I'm laying on the top of the blankets next to him, very upset.
Later, my siblings and I are trying to save people from a arranged wedding that xas initialy supposed to take place between one of my companion and me. We both dress up before entering the room, his tuxedo is classical black and white with a white bowtie, my dress is very traditional and covers me neck to toes. We get in and walk to the platform where the future husband and wife are waiting. Her dress is far more pretty than mine, and I jocke about it with my companion while pulling the man to his feet. I tell him to run and he rush out, like everyone else including me. I'm separated from the other and I try to escape my pursuers by running through a gigantic house full of strange interconnected rooms. the more persistant is closing on me; he looks a lot like my sir and it's making me slow down. He his a agent of a mysterious Queen. He tells me that I run so fast that I'm off limits. I spits in his face as he throws a spell at me, a blue light that burns my flesh to ash. I look to my left hand and see it turning into ash and fall appart before waking up.

Lots and lots of FA, exactly zero lucidity. *shake first*

I'm on a terrace, on the side of a big, elegant dark pink building, with white sidings. It's very sunny and serene, surrounded by manicured, bright green lawn. I go inside throught open bow windows with pretty lacy drapes. The apartment has a very high ceiling and is very luxurious, with a wooden floor shining in the sun.
I'm here so steal something from the owner of the place, and I'm thrilled by the challenge. I walk soflty in the silent rooms, drinking in the beauty of it. I reach the study, all honey wood and white walls, and start rumaging through the desk. A noise make me jump, and I see the owner: a tall, handsome black man with very short hair, in black slacks and a white shirt. He is poised, elegant. He slowly enter the room and I keep staring at him, he is keeping me in place through sheer charisma. He raise his hands, trying to look no threatening, but it snaps me out of my fascination and I give him a bright, cheeky smile before jumping out the window.
I would be a lousy bulgar if a pretty face was enough to catch me, right?

Didn't do a proper WBTB due to my comfy bed. Bad bed, no blanket for you. Tonight I'm drinking a big glass of water before crashing in, that'll make me get up

I'm in a brothel that is in a small castle/manor, everything is in perfectly restored and look brand new rather that antique. The period is Louis XIV, very intricate and lovely, if overbearing, the saving grace being that everything save for the sparse furniture is in very light, delicate color, pastel blue, pink and orange, with long windows covered in veils. It's dark outside, probably at night, but I can see the flash of car light from time to time. The employees of this fine etablissement are all wearing period clothes, it's gorgeous. The owner is in a pale blue dress that span for at least 3 meter on each side of her, with a powdered wig full of ringlets. She is not paying any attention to me, probably becaue she's very flushered about the arriving of a man she call "the king" and about the girls she want prepped for him. I'm wary of this man, and my feeling are comfirmed when a man in tight and a pale golden valet uniform ask her want's going to happen if one of the girl started denying him or being mouthy. She tells him with a mix of coldness and incaring-ness "There will be a bit of a beating for the bitch, even if it's not dinking night."
I suddently know that I'm infiltrated here, probably to dismantle this brothel, but I need to protect the girls. I walk in the room they are prepping for the king, with is very large with a hight celling and a lovely embroidered cloth wallpaper in a arious soft hues of green, the same cloth used for the bed canopy and sheet the armchairs. I ask the girl present to give me a dress. She show me a closet and keep making the gigantic bed, looking a little fratic. I open the closet, which is absolutly packet with dresses that look really modern, but I pull a dark green one with golden embroidery. On the hanger it's knee-lengh, slightly fitted with a ronded collar and short sleeves, but when I put it on it turn into a period dress. I strat putting on air and snobbily ask a male employee where the hair dresser is. He promptly start panicking and run off to find him. I walk out behind him look as brattish as I can, and right outside is a small, graying, bended over man that look a little like a frightened mouse in his dark outfit. I toss my hair*, and tell him "You better not be late!" before walking in a bathroom. I start searching it, looking for something that could help me protecting the girls, then I woke up.

* As my hair almost reach my knees and are thick and curly, he looked even more scared, which is the usual reaction I elect in hairdressers

I do look a little like Charlotte La Bouff from the Princess and the Frog, with long brown hair and pale skin.

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Got to sleep after a small anxiety attack linked to last year training period. Didn't have a nightmare about it thankfully, but instead of hypnalogic imagery I got auditory hallucinations that made me get back up to check the house's doors.


I am a FBI agent working in the BAU with the Criminal Minds team. Garcia is showing us a amateur video shot in night mode (everything is in green shades and we cas seen the flashlight halo) from her lair, so her voice is rolling other the video but she's not with us. It's a video sent by a unknow suspect and everyone is on edge. We can see an corridor the unsub is walking in, he is inside a small house or a appartement with light-colored walls and tilded floors. they stop in front of a light-colored plastic-looking door with two long panel of frosted glass. The camera is aimed pretty low, and when the door open we can see the legs and feet of a soaked wet woman. Her legs are chubby and she's wearing hight-heeled, sparkly sandals and her toesnails look painted. We can faintly hear rain. The camera pan slowly up to revel that the woman is Garcia, who look out of breath and disheveled, then the video is cut. Everyone react in horror and we hear Garcia gasping.
Later, I'm going undercover in the mafia. I am with the leader of this particular branch, dressed to the nine in a short, tight silk dress in deep red and a pair of styletto, my hair in a complicated bun doted with shininhs gems high on my head, and the man I'm being all arm candy for is in a sharp charcoal suit and is cultivating his ressemblance with anthony Hopkins. We're in a anonymous room, sitting around a cheap round table, though he is sitting in a velvet and dark wood chair and smoking a cigar. An other man with dark hair and slightly chinese features is with us, in a crumpled suit and nervous behaviour. the mafia leader is interviewing him about his entry in the group. After a little conversation, the candidate is accepted. I hand him a pen and a pile of contracts he have to sign while the mafia leader take his almost finished cigar off his mouth and cut of the chewed on tip to hand the still smoldering other bit to the man. He have to place it on the webbing between his tumb and his other fingers and press down hard, as a final test of passage. Interestingly, I don't have anyburn marks on my hands; I'm clearly a secretary/pretty thing and nothing more for the leader.


Man that dress was pretty. Barely-covering-my-croch level of short, but pretty.