DARK SHADOWS Original Watercolor Set: Angelique's Room For Sale

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Angelique: DARK SHADOWS Original Paper Doll #4

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DARK SHADOWS Signed & Covered Book Collection: 9 Books

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Dame Darcy Meat Cake Collection For Sale Signed

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Rosabelle OOAK Handmade Witch For Sale

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Queen Ann Doll

O, My Ra! Season 2, Episode 11

DARK SHADOWS Candle

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DARK SHADOWS Candle

 

Gettysburg Three

The Dream Hog

3/23

  This epic night of nightmares might be attributed to Blue Marsh’s sumptuous mushroom soup. The dreaming  began with Mummy and I in a cottage. I went outside to a glorious English garden with tall red flowers. There were two dogs, buff and white Springer Spaniels, mating, but not like dogs; they were holding on to each other like people, face to face. There was an older fellow standing there, watching. I walked around to the back, and there were two dead dogs rotting in the tall grass. One looked like a big Doberman Pinscher. Then I saw Shiner, to the right, he was dying. I ran back to the cottage to tell Mummy. 

  The next dream was worse. I was in a pet store with a girl. Julius, my Betta fish, was in a glass fishbowl only he was big, big as an Axolotl. I was baby talking him when I picked him up and kissed him. We were in a small part of the shop hidden behind heavy velvet patterned drapes. Three college aged boys came in and started harassing me. One was very fat and bald. He was wearing a green sweatshirt and white bermuda shorts. I kicked him in the groin which did not seem to matter, so I said he must be very small. Now the other who looked like somebody out of Happy Days with golden curls, wearing a blue letterman jacket, and his mate were after me. I ran and forced myself awake. 

  The third dream wasn’t much better. I was in the garage at home in Clover Crest readying my car, Little Pearl, for a Gettysburg trip. I removed a blue glass water bong from up behind the pedals and placed it on a metal shelving unit to the left. Mummy and my brother were both there. Halfway there, maybe at a rest stop or visitor’s center, not sure, I had to stop in a  crammed garage for a checkpoint. I was doing something in my car then came out around the trunk where I placed my items that had to be checked, maybe five of them, including my gold and cream fabric money pouch and a plastic bag with what looked like pink cotton candy or raw wool that was actually drowning floss. I knew if you had the stuff in your mouth while swimming you could not drown. A blonde woman was checking my things and told me that was smart as somebody had drowned last year  when a man wearing a beige and brown uniform passed by. I thought he was a cop. The woman asked if “that nice young man took your money lesson”, referring to my money pouch. I said, “I don’t know, did he?” She nodded. I ran after him but he had already left around a corner. Very distressed, I woke myself up again. 

  Here comes the big one, it’s really rather ridiculous, I think, that I should have to dream for the entire planet of nondreamers. If Frankie is a dream eater, then I must be a dream hog. I’ll probably have to make more coffee just to get through; and I’m using my big birthday owl mug that Theresa had sent. This one took place at Chatham College that was very different from when I had gone there, much bigger, more modern. Daddy had taken me to school and was resting in an old dark wood stained twin bed waiting for me to finish classes; I had three. It must’ve been late afternoon. I was sitting at the foot of his bed talking to him when I put the headboards, about the size of cutting boards, into my bag. Afterwards I was with a group of women in a cafeteria that was dimly lit and looked more like an auction or mess hall. I was going through my heavy bag with books and headboards looking for some snacks in a plastic bag when a very strange fellow with a brown tweed cap and granny glasses sat down next to me and asked, “Do you drink?” I did not know how to answer when he told me that he thought that I drank because as was very loud as he. I told him it was because I used to be a teacher and picked up talking louder. He left as I pretty much told him to bugger off. The women were saying how creepy he was. When we got up the women noticed how heavy my bag was and how I was straining. They took me to a little stall that was bustling with students. They handed me a heavy gray wool drawstring duffle bag with a letter on it, C, I think. One of the women told me that a boy had bought it for me. The clerk handed me a wad of cash. I told him that I did not pay for it and asked who had. He told me that he was Asian. I looked around, and there were no Asians present, so I put the money in my wallet and went to class. My first class was in a crowded library, and I was not much worried about it although my book was a different edition than the other students at the table. Mine was a big green paperback with a white printed cover, but the others were purple. My female professor did not seem to mind. I was concerned, however, with my next class. I had only been there once. I didn’t even know what it was about. After that I was in a crowded lobby where there were rumors swirling about the two boys who had bought my bag. They were saying that they were big time, and drove sportscars. Their names were Lee and Chris. I was seated outside the classroom on a small set of bleachers with some other girls. One had long blonde hair and wore a skirt. She told me that she was thoroughly confused about the course as classes were always cancelled. She took three slim green hardbacks from her bag and showed me. They concerned Arthuriana, one had a Druidess on the cover and all had bare gnarly old trees. It appeared to be a history class. I began to feel relieved. I told I had read Le Morte d’Arthur and that she would like it. Then I second guessed myself, telling her it was full of superfluous things. Then something truly strange happened to a student in the class. It seemed he had been dropped in liquid nitrogen. The girl, his girlfriend, I think, and I were crying. I told her that he did not look like he had been dipped in liquid nitrogen. He had shrunk and was naked in a fetal position. He had a nice eighties style head of hair like Kevin Bacon. He was not freezer burnt. Lee, the Asian, joined us, and I returned his money. He insisted the boy be taken to the morgue, and the girl left with him. Later I ran into Chris, the other boy, he was a ginger. He asked about his money, and I told him that I had returned it to Lee and explained the entire incident. I was thinking that I could not fit inside of Lee’s borrowed sportscar, maybe. He was miffed at me to say the least, and I could not say that I blamed him. I was thinking that it was time to go when I came across a dark dollhouse, maybe six feet tall, in its own little alcove, that opened in two places. It was on a lazy susan, so could be turned about. I knew a girl from high school, Jennifer Davidson, had made it. It was lit. I noticed a lot of my dolls were there: Red Witch, Little Ron, my Victorian Nesbit’s, the Darlings, my wooden Santa, a nutcracker, and others. I took them all, looking, and crammed them in the top of my bag that had now changed into a supple pink messenger with many different zippered compartments. The headboards were gone. I was thinking that Daddy must be waiting for me by now, for sure. I was lost. A woman with old-fashioned upswept hair, wearing a pink ruffled blouse and long russet skirt, exited a set of glass doors on a concrete patio outside and offered me a bit of hard candy. I told her, “No thank you”, and asked the way to the parking lot. She told me that it was “downstairs through the lounge”. On the stairs were the same women from the cafeteria. I asked them if Chatham was a university now. I thought that it was from LinkedIn. They told me no, and laughed. They said that it was the online schools trying to make-out that they were real. I laughed too and thought so. The lounge was very busy. There were huge bins of DVDs for sale. Some girls were talking about a young man who had died and gave his age when I woke up and wrote down as many details as I could remember. I think a second dream notebook is nearly filled now.  

Dana's Dreams

Dana's Dreams Two

Three Witches Magic Shoppe Adventures in Doll Land

 

   

Dreams 3/20

   3/20

  Hadn’t dreamed the last couple of nights as Sir Frankie Crisp slept like a dragon curled up on my chest; he eats my dreams. I had to go to bed early with the dolls last night, I was so dizzy and snotty. I dreamed and dreamed. Too bad I left such a mess from supper and decorating for Easter last night that it has taken too long to get to my dreams even if I’m drinking stale coffee. I’ll do my best to decipher my night scribbles. The main problem is that it was so dark that I wrote the first two dreams on top of one another. 

  In the first dream I worked for Trump. He was either my teacher or I was his intern. I think it was more like he was my college professor, and I was his teaching assistant. Anyway, we had these huge projects in plastic binders due. Mine was in a white plastic binder with his picture and some cut out magazine letters like a ransom note enclosed in plastic on the cover. It was bursting with papers, probably four inches thick. We were talking, and he was stacking up the student projects. He lost mine. He was acting like it was no big deal, but I ended up having to do it all over again, starting from scratch. As I finished it I was thinking that it was better than ever. 

  In the second dream I was with a queer in a theater all night. I think we were working on something together. He was talking about something that smelled “unmentionable”. We had left the theater and came to a huge escalator, I didn’t want to go up. I boarded a bus with a tour guide. To my right were a row of old abandoned stone houses with broken windows. The guide was talking about them. 

  In the third dream I think I was at a doll club meeting in a hotel in England; but I’m not sure, I’m going off of my notes here. Maybe I took the bus there. Michael Canadas was there. There were also a lot of older women. I was talking about meeting up with Mummy later, although I knew that I was lying because she was dead. 

  Are you ready for the final dream? It’s a real lulu. It is also fresh enough in my head that I’ve got a fresh cup of coffee, so let’s go. It began with my best friend Theresa and my ex, Paul, taking a bus to The University of Pittsburgh. Theresa wore a yellow top. We had some work to get done: typing. When we arrived Paul said he wanted breakfast. Theresa and I sat across from him at a small table while he pounded a huge breakfast that was spilling over his beige plastic cafeteria tray. I had a hash brown and something else small like a cookie or a grape that he gave me. Then we were in a big room that looked like an old typing classroom filled with green typewriters not computers. I got nothing done. Why? My single sheet of paper was very thin and translucent, more like onion skin than vellum. I had typed it single spaced, front and back, horizontally not vertically. Theresa said that she only got ten pages done. At this point we left the typing room and lost Paul. Theresa and I returned to the cafeteria where we sat at a little round table covered with a white linen tablecloth. Danielle had joined us. Theresa said that she was hungry, and I wondered why she hadn’t eaten breakfast. She asked Danielle to get something to eat with her, and Danielle agreed, only saying that Theresa was going to have to pay this time as she was sick of always picking up the check. Theresa did not eat with Danielle. I had gone down a huge seventies style wooden staircase with gigantic windows and trees all around and ran into Susan, my other best friend. She wore a long t-shirt that looked a lot like one of those Frankie Goes to Hollywood RELAX prints that were popular in junior high with black bermuda shorts and sandals. Her hair was pulled back. We hooked back up with Theresa, and there was another stainless steel cafeteria style line with coffee pots and a plate of giant snickerdoodle cookies as big as pancakes covered with plastic wrap. I asked Theresa if she wanted a cookie. She said no, that they weren’t “cheesy”. I was trying to ignore the fact that she seemed to be acting up. A girl from the typing room had given me a small cardboard box with a white piece of paper on the side with red cursive script. It was filled with lines of little printed boxes, maybe two by two inches. The girl said that she did not know what they were. She called them something like little shrunken or burnt bits. I opened one of the little boxes, top one on the right.They looked like boxes of jax. It was full of beautiful iridescent insects, beetles, and other things, made out of plastic or metal, not sure. There were nine boxes, in total, three rows of three. I knew that the three on the left were all bugs, but the other two rows were still mysteries to me. I was thinking the three of us could share them, picking a box, one at a time, and that might cheer Theresa up as she was getting cantankerous when I woke up.

Dana's Dreams

Dana's Dreams Two

The Three Witches Magic Shoppe Adventures in Doll Land

Really, Frankie!

  Frankie says, I'm just getting comfortable, witch, chill. You've got some serious anger issues. Dad is right.✨

 

A Look Inside the Chateau

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Frankie Says

  My Christmas witch is clawsome. ✨

 

Shannen O'Lantern

  Shannen O'Lantern is one of two big white pumpkins that grew outside the front door as their mama, last year's pumpkin, was too heavy for me to move. Shannen smells good. The witch, Tillie, came to me from Gettysburg College. I will be roasting her seeds, but Shannen is very meaty, so I might make some muffins too. Have a Happy Halloween! 

Vintage Halloween Music

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Fanchon The Cricket | Silent Drama | Full Movie

Dreams 10/9

   I've only been sleeping every three days three times as much, which is good for Fanging with Claude anyway. I dreamed of little gray bats, very cute. 

Season of the Witch 1973 pt 2

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