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I love summer. It's my favorite time of year. Work slows down.

I think it's time to go on vacation, but we are traveling with an infant. Ideas?

Try to sleep, close my eyes, I'm watching the son of an old lover undo everything his father had tried to do to redeem himself. Borias had tried to make amends with the Centaurs, for his son to try to kill them all. It only took his daughter loving one to end the bloodshed. It was partly my fault too, from the bad old days.

Try to sleep again, and Caesar captured the Fates and changed history. I became his wife, Empress of Rome. But some some things are always meant to be, and I met a playwright named Gabrielle. Guess love can cross any boundary. We knew something was up, and Gabrielle freed the fates and reset time the way it was. Fuck Caesar. I hope he's burning in hell.

Try to sleep one more time, I got Gabrielle tickets to Sappho for her birthday, but through a series of unfortunate events we couldn't make it. But I talked Sappho into writing her a poem for me, which was the real present all along.

That one wasn't so bad, really. In the process of trying to get to the show, we rescued a virgin sacrifice who spent her whole life being prepared to die for her god, and with Aphrodite's help taught her to live for herself and no one else.

Then after Gabrielle read the poem I got her, we used Hermes' helmet to fly off into the sunset

There's some weird kind of whiplash that goes along with shifting gears so extremely when it comes to dream settings. I mean, I go from Bed-Stu to ... Middle of Nowhere, Secret Base, SHIELD. Like... just three seconds to catch up would be good.

Also, can someone explain to me why I'm constantly having my mind screwed around with in these damn dreams?

I call bullshit!

The more I have these pieces of crap Dreams, the less makes sense. Apparently I'm already dead?! And I was killed off goddamn screen no less before any of what I'm currently dreaming even started!

And no, before anyone decides to ask, I'm not a goddamn vampire. I'm not sucking blood and I'm not eating brains. I'm not a ghost either. I'm just a personality, a personality tied to a decrepit old man.

The fact that I woke up and my magnum was finally on my kitchen table is small comfort to this goddamn bombshell.

It's never too early to start planning Halloween at the night clubs. Damon, I think we should start Halloween themed nights in the club in late September, sort of how the theme parks do it. What do you think?

Beks, want to be my Bride of Frankenstein?