A Little Mission: Impossible Dream

This post is almost entirely because Peter Graves has been reasserting himself in my consciousness after my detour on Route 66. I think the weights are evening out on the scales and things are becoming balanced, with Peter Graves and Route 66 and Star Trek all gaining some equilibrium in my mind.

The top picture is there because it's pretty, pretty, pretty. The bottom one is there because it popped up when I searched for the other one, and it's pretty pretty too. I've uploaded them before, but they deserve to be out on their own.

Today I completed a whole chapter of the Mission: Impossible fiction that I started months ago, that has been languishing on my computer, and I started a new chapter too. I thought a lot about how Peter Graves might look while washing in a cold bathroom.

In fact, Peter Graves is reasserting himself so strongly in my consciousness that last night I had a long and rambling dream about him that is very hard to recount. Mostly it was a kind of dream-type Mission: Impossible episode with lots of running around and going from place to place. But the best part took place in a large and weird hotel that had lots of floors covered in various types of gardens, going about at Jim's side as he did what needed to be done. At one point he needed to reach up to do something on the ceiling and that was when I noticed that he was completely naked from the waist down. I was standing behind him, so I only got that view, but what a fine view. He didn't seem self conscious at all. As he lifted his knees up and swung a little from whatever it was on the ceiling (god knows why) I noticed he had a bruise on his buttock. I told him about it (he had got it somehow in the line of duty) and he didn't seem too concerned about that. In fact about the only purpose to him being up there seemed to be so that I could stand behind him and admire his rather exquisite buttocks and the taut lines of his  thighs and calves.

So, thank you brain. Happy dream.