Wednesday, November 30, 2011

when dreaming of the wwe it is better to dream of a diva

so there i am deep in the dream and i am woken up because i need to do something, only i am still in the dream and what i need to do is go and let dave batista into my flat.
it is dark outside, probably 5am or something like that.
i stagger to the front door trying to put my jeans on and make myself decent, also trying not to wake my mum who is asleep on the couch.
i get to the door and it is open, which is odd and worrying.
dave batista is coming up the stairs - someome has let him into the block.

scene change.

we are in a gym. batista is working out. i am there as either his trainer, manager or just hanger on.
he is doing lots of exercises - his body seems to be somewhere between pumped human and something rob liefeld would draw. he is doing some sort of skipping exercise with this big rope that looks like it is made of packing tape rolled into a rope like substitute.

whoever i am talking to we are discussing batista's up and coming fight, while he is being busy exercising.

that is pretty much all that happens in it.
still it beats the one where i was trying to save a spaceship while trying to find my lost glasses.