They were doing a TV Special called Battle of the Starship Captains. In the night previous, Picard had battled someone I'd never of. This night, Kirk (with his sidekick Spock) were battling someone else I'd never heard. My mother and I were there for the filming. Although still old, Bill was trim and fit. My mother was giving me a lecture on being "a good girl." I blew her off with some lie.
After the filming there was a party. Leonard also looked very fit so he and Bill were comparing who'd lost the most weight. (Bill, obviously.)
Bill pressed me up against a wall and invited me to come to L.A. the next day. As he was saying it, I could feel him getting hard. I was trying to figure out if I could reschedule an important audition I had but he thought I was hesitating so he said, "I'll pay for everything. No hanky-panky." He said this with a straight face while his hard-on was smashed up against me. But he did kind of mumble "hanky-panky." I told him no, I had a big audition I couldn't miss. So then he invited me for Thursday which, of course, I accepted.
As Mom and I were leaving the party, she said, "He's still sexy."
Duh.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Kitty's dream of 9/5/08
Some big-head aliens (looked like the Vians) helped Kirk see into the future about 150 years where there was an orchestra playing the Captain Kirk Suite. So Kirk would know his legend lives on.
Damn decent of those aliens.
Damn decent of those aliens.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Iddy's Dream from mid-May 2008
Okay, I finally get my OWN William Shatner dream and don’t just guest star in someone else’s…
The dream appears to take place during William Shatner Weekend (WSW) but the atmosphere is more casual and intimate than the two real-life weekends I’ve attended. During the dream WSW is actually the culmination of a whole week of events celebrating Bill’s birthday. His whole family is involved and we WSW’ers are allowed to comingle in their presence at his house. If only!
It is during one of these chat fests, you know, the kind of family get togethers where the kids run amok and the parents just ignore them, when one of Bill’s grandsons comes to me and asks if I will help him make cookies for Grandpa...
Now, “ask” is being generous, he actually grabs me by the hand and yanks me away from a conversation with Elizabeth, demanding that I help him make cookies. (Does the child have a clue? Do I *look* like I know how to make a cookie?—No on both counts-- but this is a dream, remember?) He’s about four or five years old, so I pretend to be a grown up and excuse myself from the adults.
Sitting in Bill’s kitchen, we diligently look through two cookbooks before deciding to make some sort of gooey granola thumbprint cookies with cherry jam in their centers. And no, I have never made these cookies before-- nor would I even like them--both detesting granola and any sort of gooey jam. However, I am worried about when Grandpa will be around looking for said cookies, so we try to get our act together but mostly just make a mess in the kitchen. After many tries and some serious looks of disgust from the boy, I finally produce a batch of decent cookies.
He soon marches off into another room that looks suspiciously like the banquet hall at the Burbank Equestrian Center—I think to complain to mama (and no, I have no idea who he belongs to) that I am pretty dismal in the kitchen. There is a ruckus going on in the room between Bill’s daughters and one of the WSW’ers. I step back, refusing to be a part of the argument but Elizabeth steps in, scolding them for their behavior and telling them they’ve never worked a day in their lives. The daughters are all doughty, not still youthful and beautiful like Elizabeth.
I must have made points for not getting into the fray and helping bake the cookies, because as my reward I get to sit at Bill’s knee in front of his fireplace and be a part of an intimate conversation between him and several other people! My arm is draped casually across his lap and he seems quite content for it to be there. The lights are low, with only the firelight illuminating our faces. Of course Bill is gorgeous, his eyes gleaming in the fire’s glow as he tells one story after another. We chat until the wee hours but I remember none of the conversation.
Upon reflection I’ve decided I must have been channeling a real desire of Bill’s for these despicable cookies. If so, I could learn to bake—couldn’t I??
The dream appears to take place during William Shatner Weekend (WSW) but the atmosphere is more casual and intimate than the two real-life weekends I’ve attended. During the dream WSW is actually the culmination of a whole week of events celebrating Bill’s birthday. His whole family is involved and we WSW’ers are allowed to comingle in their presence at his house. If only!
It is during one of these chat fests, you know, the kind of family get togethers where the kids run amok and the parents just ignore them, when one of Bill’s grandsons comes to me and asks if I will help him make cookies for Grandpa...
Now, “ask” is being generous, he actually grabs me by the hand and yanks me away from a conversation with Elizabeth, demanding that I help him make cookies. (Does the child have a clue? Do I *look* like I know how to make a cookie?—No on both counts-- but this is a dream, remember?) He’s about four or five years old, so I pretend to be a grown up and excuse myself from the adults.
Sitting in Bill’s kitchen, we diligently look through two cookbooks before deciding to make some sort of gooey granola thumbprint cookies with cherry jam in their centers. And no, I have never made these cookies before-- nor would I even like them--both detesting granola and any sort of gooey jam. However, I am worried about when Grandpa will be around looking for said cookies, so we try to get our act together but mostly just make a mess in the kitchen. After many tries and some serious looks of disgust from the boy, I finally produce a batch of decent cookies.
He soon marches off into another room that looks suspiciously like the banquet hall at the Burbank Equestrian Center—I think to complain to mama (and no, I have no idea who he belongs to) that I am pretty dismal in the kitchen. There is a ruckus going on in the room between Bill’s daughters and one of the WSW’ers. I step back, refusing to be a part of the argument but Elizabeth steps in, scolding them for their behavior and telling them they’ve never worked a day in their lives. The daughters are all doughty, not still youthful and beautiful like Elizabeth.
I must have made points for not getting into the fray and helping bake the cookies, because as my reward I get to sit at Bill’s knee in front of his fireplace and be a part of an intimate conversation between him and several other people! My arm is draped casually across his lap and he seems quite content for it to be there. The lights are low, with only the firelight illuminating our faces. Of course Bill is gorgeous, his eyes gleaming in the fire’s glow as he tells one story after another. We chat until the wee hours but I remember none of the conversation.
Upon reflection I’ve decided I must have been channeling a real desire of Bill’s for these despicable cookies. If so, I could learn to bake—couldn’t I??
Kitty's dream of 9/1/2008
This dream was about teenage Kirk. His mother was nuts. She kept calling him William Shatner. He had lots of brothers and sisters. In the dream, he had broken his leg playing some sport. It wouldn't heal properly so he was laid up for a long time. Having nothing else to do, he got way ahead on schoolwork. When he was finally able to go back to school, he was so far ahead of the other kids that he only had to take one class to graduate and that's how he got into Starfleet Academy so young.
On the day he went back to school, it was Dress Weird Day. His dad yelled at him for dressing normally and made him tie his sweater around his waist upside down and inside out. His mother was still calling him William Shatner.
I bet he was really really glad to go to Starfleet Academy even if he did have to put up with Finnegan.
On the day he went back to school, it was Dress Weird Day. His dad yelled at him for dressing normally and made him tie his sweater around his waist upside down and inside out. His mother was still calling him William Shatner.
I bet he was really really glad to go to Starfleet Academy even if he did have to put up with Finnegan.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Greg's dream of 8/2/08
My parents had recently bought and refurbished a grand old town house into some kind of opulent Moroccan dream fantasy. Truly amazing with huge marble columns, internal courtyards and sweeping stairs. And servants, lots of servants. I was inspecting my wing of the house (sure, I’d move back in with the parents – if they had a house like this) while the housewarming party was underway. Maybe guests had been invited and I enjoyed watching the comings and goings from secret doors hidden behind damask curtains. G. Bush arrived, along with a security entourage of 100s but left after several minutes to a chorus of “fuck off Bush!”. Arnie tried to quell the chanting but to no avail. Thankfully I then came across one particular glass roofed courtyard. It contained an indoor swimming pool much like a roman bathhouse and to my surprise and delight Bill, drink in hand. He stood at the top of a Chinese bridge which spanned the pool. After all the hubbub of the party it felt like I had reached the centre of the labyrinth. We sat on stone benches and he talked about the portrayal of classical music in early cinema. Or something like that - it was hard to follow as he was going off on many tangents. But the important thing was that I was chatting with Bill as he sat at the top of a Chinese stone bridge above an indoor swimming pool in a glass roofed roman bathhouse.
Lene's Dream of 8/21/08
I was in Germany for some kind of work thing, which also coincided with a Shatner weekend. Bill was really busy and we didn't get to see him at all! Suddenly it was the last day, and I realized I hadn't packed and had no way to get to the airport, so I panicked and rushed back to the hotel. (For some reason, I was wearing a long slinky red dress, the kind lounge singers wear, and long red elbow gloves.) James Spader was there (about 25 lbs lighter than he is now...) and said I shouldn't worry, he'd get me another flight out, and that we should just hang out for the day. He obviously had the hots for me. We walked around this little German village and he showed me where Bill was staying. It was a little cottage in this green glade, rather magical looking; it had a big front window and inside we could see Bill, Elizabeth, one of his daughters, and his manager, all of them on different phones talking at the same time. (It looked like a telethon!) Spader said Bill might be free later but we should just leave him to deal with his business, cos he's such a busy guy.
Then we went back to the hotel and had sex - me and Spader, I mean, not me and Bill. It was really good anyway.
Then we went back to the hotel and had sex - me and Spader, I mean, not me and Bill. It was really good anyway.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Jess's Dream (date uncertain)
There was a long, involved adventure plot, involving rescuing Scotchy from captivity under a building which he and many others were making rotate by working on an enormous capstan-like machine.
However, at one stage I followed Kirk, in his series gold shirted uniform, into a Rec Room which bore a startling resemblance to a 50s diner, past two yeowomen who were obviously no better that they should to be, perched on those counterside stools.
"He's dreamy," says first yeowoman
"Yes," says second yeowoman. "And hung like a bear too."
:D
However, at one stage I followed Kirk, in his series gold shirted uniform, into a Rec Room which bore a startling resemblance to a 50s diner, past two yeowomen who were obviously no better that they should to be, perched on those counterside stools.
"He's dreamy," says first yeowoman
"Yes," says second yeowoman. "And hung like a bear too."
:D
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)