I was in a Harry Potter movie. Someone was talking about doing a hat trick (which is a hockey term and, as far as I know, has nothing to do with Harry Potter). We were on one train, and we saw the big red train that we were supposed to be on. Except we were calling it, "The rail." As we taxied in, Daniel Radcliffe, with his young face and big round glasses, expected a kiss, as the script stated. He leaned forward and puckered, and I leaned in to kiss him. I had masked my attraction expertly, and continued to do so by making sure it was a stage kiss.
Then we got up to the train, and instead of getting to ride in in a car, there were literal automobile cars that were attached to it. We were supposed to attach our car. But, for some reason, I was with the Gold's Gym crew, and Michi and I were expected to attach ourselves. She and I fought for the front spot. I ended up giving it to her and she plugged herself in. Then the train started and we lifted off the ground like kites. I tensed up and we maneuvered ourselves together and hung on to the back of the car in front of us.
The hellish ride was punctuated by what seemed like hours of my wandering long hallways and urgently trying to keep doors shut and people out who wanted to be in.
3 comments:
I wish I had dreams about Mr. Radcliffe.
Although, I'd really only want to dream about the more recent, hot-ass jailbait Daniel Radcliffe. Who wants to make out with a freaking 12-year-old? Do I look like some kind of priest? GET OFF MY BACK!!!
Yeah, it was weird. The more recent, hot-ass jailbait Daniel Radcliffe would have been FAR more fun. Oh, well, there's always tonight.
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