Elizabeth Lively

On a dewy humid eve down in a more extravagant, yet calm small freckle of Florida, I was invited to a very elaborate dinner to sit at a table with my father, a co-worker of his, and that co-workers eldest son... with the only exception of me not being ready for the event because somebody was busy cavorting around the beautiful outdoors. Completely disheveled, I was found and escorted into the ritzy dining hall, where around little circular tables sat some big named figures and their entourages. my 'escort' was attempting to hide me as much as possible; while he thought my appearance was dreadful, even with my hair splattered all over my face, I could see some handsome faces turning through the sides of my eyes, but eyes straight forward in disdain of being treated so lowly.

Once seated, my father told me I should go freshen up. "Thank you!" I beamed, and got to leave just as fast as I had sat. "I'll lead you out," smiled the co-workers son, whom apparently had already taken a quick liking to the rumply mess to the right of him. "Okay..." I chortled as he took my hand, 'as if we were going to dance,' and left the main hall to find the closest bathroom in the gigantic ancient colonial style hotel. 

While this gentleman proved to be quite silent, he led me to his room, and graciously gave me a copy of the key to keep on hand. “I'm going to go back to the table. Good luck,” he said with a warm smile. Eye locked, I said in return, “Thank you,” with a very slight head-bow.

What happened after this is a literal hodgepodge of nonsense which involves an odd, twisted girl opening up a moving box on a wall of the bathroom: staring in at me while showering – I had noticed and was trying to figure out what was her dealio for staring at me as if I were a fish in a bowl, and later a different girl who had taken some clothes of mine to the curb, and I was crouched in the grass in my bra and underwear waiting for her to give my clothes back, she put on my favorite outfit, said “tough shit,” and walked away. 

Somehow, I stumbled onto a box of a bit silly, but passable clothes to adorn, and still made it back to the table in one piece. 

And that was last night's dream, the bullshitted version, and my character (which I got to spectate this time) was a cross between myself and Blake Lively. crossbred. whoah.