Okay, we're going to start with this bit of knowledge: I woke up this morning with Joan Baez's "In The Quiet Morning" running through my head. This is a song about the untimely death of Janis Joplin. What a weird song to wake up with. This sort of thing happens to me all the time but I just thought whoa.

But things actually get more interesting (okay, yes, maybe only for me, true).



I had an SVU dream last night. Actually I was part of the SVU investigatory procedure in the dream. Myself, piekid, and another woman I did not recognize were on a "jury consultant team" working on a case with Olivia Benson, who was wearing black and who walked behind us a lot so that I felt kinda weirded out. She scowled the entire time and I don't think she spoke once.

But get this! (And piekid, I do so apologize for what you are about to read.) We were working with a newly returned Alex Cabot! O_o!

rant How many times have I hoped for a Limer dream? Is it really so difficult to have the correct ADA in my dreams? Really, people. I would hope my subconscious KNOWS how I feel about Alex Cabot by now. I do NOT need to have indepth SVU case-related dreams with her in them. Kthx. /rant

Not only was she back but she was searching in the evidence lockup for something that she hadn't seen since before she left. Some clerk finally brings it to her while we are in a lavish conference room discussing the actual case we're working on. What is it, you ask? A picture of her three-year-old daughter who has been missing for years.

Yes, apparently our dearest Alex (that was sarcasm in case you missed it) ran off to Paris when she was what I like to call a rich spoiled brat and she married at 17. She married a wealthy older man, was lavished with gifts and furs and jewelry, got pregnant, had the baby (I think her name was Lily), and spent her days walking around Europe with the baby, accepting accolades and attention from the commoners. (Well, that's what it looked like to me. Vast crowds of adoring, fawning sycophants, all hoping for a bit of attention in return. Ugh.)

Alas, her happy life was to be cut short by the disappearance of Lily while she, Lily, and Lily's nanny were walking in what I can only surmise was a Spanish barrio. Everyone expected that there would be a ransom demand because of the child's parentage, but none ever came. Shortly after that, Alex's marriage fell apart and she returned to the welcoming arms of Mama Cabot who attempted to wipe the whole sordid affair from Alex's mind by pulling some strings to get her into law school. And then again, to get her into the DA's office.

Anyway, so Alex gets the photograph of her child (Lily's case is still an open case, after all) and gives it to Olivia, whose only visible response was to try and eat the entire donut tray in about three bites.

Meanwhile, I'm trying to figure out how old the kid would be now using a complex equation that would have rendered her age in days and not years, for some odd reason.

The case we are working on in the dream is extremely disgusting. Two young girls from the same family go missing within days of each other. They are 14 and 16. Later, one of them is found dismembered, her body parts hidden in various parts of several rusted out pickup trucks languishing on the family farm. The other one is found days later, dismembered, and put in plastic storage bins with the family's winter clothing.

The crack investigatory skills of Olivia Benson, the Silent, Scowling, Donut Eating MONSTER, have produced evidence to the fact that the girls' step-father is the perp. It is our job, as the "Jury Consultant Team" , to listen to the State's case and comment on whether or not we think a jury will be swayed by certain facts, certain terminology, etc.

But Alex is more interested in finding her long lost daughter and Olivia is apparently down for the count with a plate of donuts. And piekid, the other woman, and I are basically wondering what the fuck we've gotten into when the damn dog woke me up.

And you think that is weird enough, right? One more thing.

I woke up with swollen, tender, and cut up knuckles on my right hand. As if I had been in a fist fight of some duration. Except that I went to bed with an intact right hand, neither of the dogs seems to be damaged in any way, and there is no one else in this entire house.

O_o

Eeek.

So anyway. Yeah. This is going to be one weird day, isn't it?

Sigh...

Okay.

But really. The Alex Cabot dream thing needs to never happen again.

Really.

NEVER AGAIN.



Twoodles.

DiNovia