I woke up at 4am today and could fall back asleep worth anything, so I decided to get up and read a little. I began re-reading The Three Musketeers. I read until about 9am and only have a few chapters left; but I was sleepy again so I put it down and fell asleep on my couch.
Isn’t it funny when dreams follow up your thought process? Even though the actual theme may not be the main concern or subject in your head?
I think it can be hilarious sometime- and as I fell asleep- I dreamt of D’Artagnan pursuing me in a hot chase for my hand. The funny thing is that it wasn’t even me; this lady I was seeing the point of view from had beautiful long red flowing hair- proceeding past her waist. Her eyes sparkled with a lightness I haven’t actually seen in eyes. She was a wonder and a beauty for sure and it no comprehension why D’Artagnan was pursuing this goddess supposing to be me. But, as I dreamt- we were on our way to see the play of The Three Musketeers. The dress I wore was Gorgeous! But let’s not go into it.
Before the play, the party I was with (which D’Artagnan was not a part of, he was already at the theatre and we would meet him there) needed to make a quick stop at this magnificent architectural house comprising of the steeple towers of the 17th century and the Picasso design of the 21st century. It was quite amazing and was the home of the relatives of D’Artagnan. We stayed a long time, but the time came to get into the carriage and go to the play, so D’Artagnan could court me into his arms. Everyone left in such a hurry though they completely forgot me! But all was settled when I set eyes on the blacksmith (the family had hired for the making of a Still for moonshine) was in the backyard.
His image was stolen from a Spanish soap opera I watch at 9pm every evening for the gorgeous dresses and hairstyles. ** Pasiόn Intro **
Not to mention the men confirm just how much that gender can make a woman faint in their strong arms. I don’t watch any soap opera apart from that one, but if ABC or NBC came out with a soap opera from the 18th century I most likely would be ALL over it. Anyways- he was god, and I fell for him immediately.
It’s a poor move for any woman owning the title “her ladyship” to make. But how could I resist! Talk about the perfect romance novel. Most of my stories are from my dreams actually, but I don’t think I could pursue a story concluding the theme of “within these 260 pages I will show you how all your problems can be solved by my masculine body”
Though, not all romance novels use that theme- so there is still hope for it.
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