Network

I’ve been curious about the dreams everyone has, to see what mine would look like when I got them. But now I’m dreading them, whenever they happen. Why didn’t he tell me I was in his dreams? Has anyone found out about what sort of dream world they were going to have, before they started dreaming? How did you deal with it?

Why in the bloody hell do these dreams have to continue? Though I suppose the cliffhanger they ended at before was a bit awkward. And you know what else is awkward? Wanting to propose to your dream ladyfriend and getting a blessing from her father - only to realise that you were the one who murdered your would-be fiancee's grandfather. Neither she or her father know that, of course, because I seem intent on keeping it a secret. Since clearly a secret like that is a way to get someone to accept your proposal.

It was a robbery gone wrong, mind you. I just thought he was some twat whose carriage me and my crew looted, and then dumped the body on the side of the road. Sorry, Swan. I didn't kill anyone you're related to here, I assure you.

Well, anyway, all of this nonsense means a certain Savior has returned from the alternate universe she was sucked into. And we finally know who was clearly sent to kill her from yet another alternate universe. Do you have a headache yet? I certainly do.

Did receive a harpoon out of it though. It's enchanted, and why wouldn't it be? Perhaps this will come in handy next time I want to locate wayward souls, or potentially spear a squid for supper.

The last day of school is coming up soon, and I’ve been putting in applications for summer jobs. I already know I am NOT going if the donut shop calls me back for an interview after the way the manager kept calling me ‘Miss’ and giving me looks someone that old should not be giving to a teenager because the guy that I talked to there seemed like a complete jerk. Starbucks seemed promising, they had a no call while I was there so they might have an opening soon.

I can’t believe that next year is my senior year. How did time go by so fast? It feels like high school just started.

I've never really understood the appeal of posting all of your personal information online, but I can't fault a good communication tool if it means not turning into a recluse that recycles her own urine. Which I'm not, by the way. No matter what my brother says.

Er, anyway. Hi, Orange County. I'm Lena. I'm an engineer at Stark Industries (For now. If I don't find a more efficient cooling mechanism for this generator I may be out of a job soon). Please help me find things to do that aren't just work, so that my brother will get off of my back.

I'm becoming convinced my dreams are just a who's who of the latter 19th Century. I'd already met a young Alexander Graham Bell in the early stages of developing what would become the telephone, and bumped into Charles Dickens. Now I've met Florence Nightingale, who helped saved some friends of mine from an illness. I've also met a very young Arthur Conan Doyle. Most children his age would be playing with their friends. But he helps me solve murders. Guess that explains his writings later in life.

Though I'm getting closer to the Piece of Eden that's hidden somewhere in London. I found clues in the Kenway House that are leading me somewhere. I'm not completely certain where yet. I need to study them more first. Though it would be great if my brother stopped following me about and being annoying. Sometimes I really don't think he takes our mission seriously. Actually, no, more like most of the time I think that.

And on a non-dream front, there's not enough bloody tea in the world to help me deal with my day job. Which tends to turn into an anytime of day job. I may fall asleep at my desk.

As much as I adore performing, it really would be nice if I could just watch a show I've done from the audience instead of managing to always end up at the performance where I am needed to fill in at the very last minute. Just once.

Yet the show must go on.