Mr. Armitage meets The Dementor

Previous Armitage dreams in which Armitage appears as Armitage: first (recurring) ; second ; third (recurring) ; fourth ; fifth.

[Friday night to Saturday morning dream. In order to understand this dream: “The Dementor” is someone I worked with in my last job. He’s also incidentally the person whom Michael Fassbender reminds me of — something about the eyebrows / forehead — in case you’ve been wondering why I’m so Fassbender-allergic. And I’m currently teaching a course that I have almost never had to teach because The Dementor is a world expert on the topic and has written two of the most important textbooks for teaching it, and I’m using his textbooks. I dream about The Dementor off and on, usually unpleasant re-enactments of one of two very traumatic encounters I had with with him in real life.]

In the dream, I’m in a big bed with Richard Armitage in my actual present bedroom. Armitage appears in his short, brown-haired, bearded guise (vlog #2). In the dream I know that it’s my bed, but the dream bed is a much nicer bed than mine, very large, with expensive thread-count sheets and puffy eider-down duvets. Everything is blue. As I wake up I notice all this luxury and wonder hazily whose sheets these are. I’m lying in his arms, dozing, and he sneezes, and I look up blearily, and he’s reading one of the textbooks from one of my courses. It looks like he’s about halfway through. The copy in his hand has the binding broken. “This is fascinating!” he says, in a tone of strong excitement. “Did you read this section about–” and I say, “People will think I am stupid” and he says, with the same tone and energy, running over my words and interrupting, “think what? Did you know that–”

and suddenly we both look over to the bedroom window. The Dementor is outside, looking through the window, and then putting his hand through the window, and then coming in through the window. He doesn’t say anything, but he climbs onto the bed and tries to take the textbook away from Richard Armitage, who says to him, still in the tone of energetic fascination, “Wait a minute. Did you read this section about–” and holds the book away from The Dementor as The Dementor tries to grab it. The Dementor ends up in bed with us, squabbling over the book, but I’m not there for long because

the doorbell rings. In the dream, I move to answer it, and I keep falling over dirty dishes on the floor of the apartment in the dream. Somehow, however, the real, conscious me, answers the actual apartment door, but no one is there. The real, conscious me then collapses onto the sofa, heart pounding.

~ by Servetus on April 22, 2012.