Some may recall the singing of the sirens lured in the sailors who'd wreck and drown
1. Last night I fell asleep before four in the morning and I stayed that way until shortly after one in the afternoon. In between, for the first time in months, I had detailed, narrative dreams in two distinct phases. I was watching a television play and participating in it at the same time: the killing of a king in something like a Shakespearean history, filmed with all the grey skies and chapped faces and damp wool of modern adaptations. There might or might not have been a plot with a pretender. The speeches should have been in verse, but I can't remember if they were. I fell in love with the youngest of the killers, the one who got the death-blow in, a thin, cowled, gender-ambiguous person with straw-spiky hair and a round face with too many bones in it. They were quick-spoken, taking little nervous breaths halfway through phrases; they were gentle and political and I knew they would be betrayed. We never did more than hold one another, briefly and longingly. I had to watch them found out and torn apart, long after the point where the frame of the play had blurred into something that was really happening. Quartering sounds neat as mathematics, I remember thinking; bodies aren't stamps with dotted lines. After the coronation, I pushed through the gallery of spectators into the backstage that had not existed since the first moments of the dream and found them in modern dress, scarf pulled down around their neck like a cowl, packing a knapsack. They burrowed against me instantly. Later I learned that their name was Filipe and their gender identity was "boi" and we went out to dinner with a bunch of other actors and dancers they worked with (at a restaurant near Fresh Pond that hasn't existed since I was a child, though I didn't remember that until after I'd woken) and it wasn't that the events of the history play had never happened, or that we were living in some kind of metatheatrical region between dreams, but dying and going out to dinner were apparently not mutually exclusive. It was not an idyllic dream, which interests me from here. Not all their friends liked or approved of me; I hadn't introduced them yet to any of mine beyond
rushthatspeaks and
derspatchel. It must have been colder where we were or earlier in the year, because I remember trees breaking into flower above our heads, white and pink petals all over the sidewalk. I remember how they fit into my arms, a little shorter than I was and much skinnier. I missed them when I woke up. Those are unusual dreams for me these days.
2. I spent much of this evening with
sairaali and M., watching Star Trek: Voyager (1995–2001). It turns out that the pilot and the second half of the two-parter with the Borg Queen are not a good introduction to Voyager, but being shown four favorite episodes (and one chosen to showcase a character I was interested in) by someone who really likes the series is great. Robert Picardo continues his streak of fantastic character acting, because the Doctor was my favorite character almost at once. Her figure-hugging jumpsuit is idiotic, but Jeri Ryan's Seven of Nine may be coming in second. I am interested to see a show running two very different narratives about how to be human—or not—simultaneously, without putting them in conflict with one another. Will gladly watch more episodes as recommended. Also, Kate Mulgrew has an amazing voice. The last person I heard who sounded like her was Katharine Hepburn.
(I stand by my original assessment of Star Trek: Enterprise (2001–2005), however: it was terrible.)
3. I should cook fruit more often. The braces and other health concerns have made eating most raw fruits difficult, but the baked-down plums and nectarines really worked.
2. I spent much of this evening with
(I stand by my original assessment of Star Trek: Enterprise (2001–2005), however: it was terrible.)
3. I should cook fruit more often. The braces and other health concerns have made eating most raw fruits difficult, but the baked-down plums and nectarines really worked.

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I loved Seven too. Jeri Ryan later does awesome work on one of my favourite series ever, Leverage.
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Oh, awesome. I don't think I'd known.
It was one of the first times I really got representation, that amazing kick of seeing yourself on the screen, pow.
What kinds of character do you usually see yourself in?
Jeri Ryan later does awesome work on one of my favourite series ever, Leverage.
People keep telling me to watch this show! Including my mother!
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That's extremely cool. And not something I can really judge from my own experience, so I appreciate hearing from people who can!
I didn't get to watch enough of it to form an opinion.
So I got the impression from
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I love that you're having such amazing dreams.
Nine
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They felt like my first real dreams in a very long time. Last night's were sketchier and more scattered; I got less sleep. I dreamed of trying to write a poem to a particular title, but if I succeeded, I don't remember the words at all.
ST:E
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My experience of the show was almost uniformly negative (and what wasn't negative was frustrating), but it's good to know it wasn't that way for all viewers.
What happened in the final two episodes?
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Kate Mulgrew has played Katherine Hepburn in a one-woman stage show.
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I believe it. In my case, I had an initial bad experience which was only confirmed by a random episode encounter years later and was then told by multiple people that I hadn't missed anything in between, so I never sought the show out until
(I know it's not the point of this anecdote, but what was your alternate parody Voyager like?)
Kate Mulgrew has played Katherine Hepburn in a one-woman stage show.
So I read! I'm sorry not to have seen that.
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There's actually a lot about Seven of Nine's character as written that I really enjoy. She really is much less human than she looks, physiologically as well as psychologically; at least in the episodes I've seen, there's a degree past which she seems genuinely disinterested in recovering or developing her humanity, or at least she's not interested in doing so for the comfort or approval of others. I loved that the episode in which the Doctor attempts to teach Seven of Nine how to date ends with him in love and her deciding that romance isn't her thing. I was so happy to hear her remind Janeway that she has just as much in common with the replicator and the Doctor as she does with Janeway or the other organic characters on the ship. Some things about personhood intrigue her, others hold no appeal, and either way she'll spend the rest of her life recharging in regeneration alcoves rather than sleeping. Her costume is just incredibly stupid and I'm not even sure, in-world, what explains it. As I said to
She's really quite good when she shows up in Leverage, mostly in season 2.
I am beginning to see Leverage in my future . . .
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Re: Voyager, I really *loved* Seven of Nine's exploration of humanity, and also of what it was like to be part of the Borg. She was my favorite character in that show.
Star Trek Enterprise took some for-me morally wrong decisions in the first season, and I had to give up on it.
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The device of a book or a play or a movie that becomes the main action of the dream is a very old one for me; I can trace it as far back as I've been recording dreams. It's just unusual for the frame to return later in the dream rather than dissolving entirely into the reality of the plot. It didn't strike me as unusual in at the time, of course. Awake, it just looks like my subconscious decided to give me (and Filipe!) a break for once.
She was my favorite character in that show.
See above to
Star Trek Enterprise took some for-me morally wrong decisions in the first season, and I had to give up on it.
May I ask? I may not even have made it to the moral dilemma. I bailed within the first five or six.
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It does occur to me to wonder whether there would be extensive scarring, or eerie smoothness on Filipe's skin. It puts me in mind of the end of Norman Jewison's take on Jesus Christ Superstar (among other things, including a bunch of variations on the "don't crack the bones" stories, though I don't think quartering, especially if there is dragging or drawing is likely to leave someone's bones intact).
I wonder whether the symbology of Filipe's thinness meant that your feelings of love and peotectiveness were increased by zir perceived fragility?
I am glad you were able to reconcile and even start relationship talks before the dream ended, even if you have been sundered by the sleeping/waking divide.
If it causes you to get good sleep, I hope you are reunited.
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It felt like I finally got enough real sleep for my brain to function the way it's supposed to, complex narrative dreams included. But the part where it didn't all end tragically or traumatizingly was really nice.
It puts me in mind of the end of Norman Jewison's take on Jesus Christ Superstar (among other things, including a bunch of variations on the "don't crack the bones" stories, though I don't think quartering, especially if there is dragging or drawing is likely to leave someone's bones intact).
I know the folktales; I've never seen the film of Jesus Christ Superstar. What does it do about scars?
If it causes you to get good sleep, I hope you are reunited.
Thank you. That is one of the nicest things I have been wished lately.
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I love Kate Mulgrew (who started her career on Ryan's Hope in 1975 and already had that voice as a young woman).
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It felt like my own brain, finally, instead of just a blank.
I love Kate Mulgrew (who started her career on Ryan's Hope in 1975 and already had that voice as a young woman).
Like Joan Greenwood! She sounds exactly like herself in 1947 in The October Man and in 1988 in Little Dorrit.
Robert Picardo
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*blink*
Wow.
That does not sound like the kind of movie you watch for the plot, but I have been very successful watching movies for the casting before, so thank you.
...and if you do watch it, it rewards hanging around through the end credits.
Noted.
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(I may have told you about this before - I like to take every opportunity to tell everyone about it.)
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(You have, but it sounds delicious, so I don't care. I made coconut-milk rice pudding last night—I just need to get some more plums.)