roseembolism | Weird, wild dreams.

It was more than a little weird, the dream I had Saturday night. I don't know why- it's not like I've even seen the series for five years, and I'm not the biggest fan, but I had a dream involving Buffy. Well, Buffies. And fairy godmothers. I tend to have very cinematic dreams, and this was incredibly movie-like, self-referentially so, because when I was the viewpoint character, I was aware of the movie nature of it.

It starts with a fairy godmother and an agent of God, who's viewpoint I more or less had. The fairy godmother is plump, motherly, and dressed in a bizarre array of caftans, sweaters, pins, scarves, and the like. In order to deal with a major menace, she is on a transatlantic plane from Britain, and sitting across from her are some of Buffy's companions (who don't look like any of the Buffy cast). The young watcher-type (based vaguely on a friend) is the only one who doesn’t figure out that she was a fairy based on her bizarre appearance and oddly knowledgeable mannerisms…

Scene shift.

The perspective is from a not-Xander type. Many Buffys from parallel dimensions have been gathered together to deal with a huge menace. They're all kinds of variations on Buffy; younger, different colored hair, even a couple that were African-American or Pakistani-American. It''s a garden party of sorts as everyone is sitting in the backyard chatting. TV Buffy is berating a younger, shy Buffy for having a fake blond color strip in her hair. After listening to this, the younger Buffy pulls the color strip off like scotch tape (yes I know, it was weird to me too), stretches it out, and slices through the big tree they're sitting under. "We have higher technology", she explains. The tree stands still for a long moment, then slowly slides to the side, and topples over. Not-Xander pulls one of the Buffies, who was simply sitting there watching in shock, out of the way of being crushed. Then one of the other Buffies, a brunette, corrals Not-Xander, says "I've missed you, and covers the two of them with a jacket. As she takes off her top, he's distracted from the lovemaking by thinking the jacket can't possibly cover this...

Scene shift. Damn it.

Viewpoint is myself. In the kitchen I am chatting with the fairly godmother, who is making a special pastry which will be instrumental to defeating the Big Bad. I tease her that it looks like a pop-tart, and she gets upset. I have to reassure her that she is an excellent cook. And then I hear the bad news- one of the companions has gone off to the store. I know that according to TV logic this means something bad will happen to him...

Scene shift:

In the combination bazaar boutique mall, the Watcher-type from the airplane (remember him?) has opened a door to a room/store, and realized the normal, if saturnine appearing man inside is the Big Bad. The Big Bad has a use for him, and so the Watcher runs through the hallways to the main store, a men's clothing warehouse store, where the Big bad corners him right before the door. The big bad starts setting up a ritual, with a little bronze pot, scrawling on the floor, when the store clerk comes up and says that no rituals are allowed in the store. I reflect on what kind of world this is where stores have those rules, and then the Watcher begins fleeing through the endless clothing racks. ..

Scene shift.

Viewpoint is the Pakistani Buffy, who is waking up on a sandy bank next to a stream, somewhere in the daylight. It is after the battle is over, and she's naked. Other characters are there waking up too, most of them naked. An Oz-type is in jeans and flannel shirt standing there, saying that it is because they died during the battle. As for him, *shrug* he had to wander for eons through hell trying to get away.

Scene Shift

Viewpoint is me, back in the warehouse clothing store, "Our" Buffy is trying to put a call through to God on a pay phone I've directed her to, to get an answer for all this. The "operator" eventually connects her, and through a huge amount of interference, she hears faintly a man asking if the vampires were dead.
"Yes" she says, crying.
"Good girl" comes the faint voice, and then just static. She collapses in wracking sobs, and one of the companions asks what they should do. I shrug. "Normally, someone who had that conversation would join a nunnery or become a saint, but well, in this case, I don't think that applies."

Fade into awakeness.