14 December, 2005

"that mr hyde guy is kinda full-on"

~dream diary~

Life has become a movie! It is a horror movie. Snazzles, Moodles, Lilikens, Jelly and I are the players. We have to improvise, because there is no script. But we are great! We have flawless American accents. We assume complex, multi-dimensional characters. It becomes clear that my character and Jelly's are love-interests. We play the flirting scenes like experts.

We are going to college. There is a creepy, psycho lecturer named Mr Hyde. Oh, what a clever reference! My film-within-a-dream is postmodern! After class, I smile sheepishly at Jelly and say, "That Mr Hyde guy is kinda full-on." I am setting up Mr Hyde as the potential killer in our horror movie. It is a red-herring and an inter-textual reference at the same time! Now we are going camping...

Suddenly I am separated from the girls, and I realise that the film-plot has followed them. I am still in character, but I am not onscreen anymore. It dawns on me: I must be the killer! I have gone missing, and the girls assume I'm dead. Somewhere, they are running and being scared (and possibly getting topless and bloody, as girls in horror movies do, right?) So I realise I must prepare for the grand finalé where I suddenly reappear, reveal myself as the killer-all-along, scare the shit out of them, then probably get slaughtered in a bloodthirsty but open-ended way (to leave room for a sequel).

So I bide my time and wait for nightfall. Then I creep back towards where I know the girls are camping. On the way, I cross a park with a children's playground. In this playground, they are shooting an episode of
Rome. It is a war-camp scene. Centurion Vorenus is stoically trying to maintain order among his legionaries, while Pullo sits atop the monkey-bars, receiving a blow-job from a slave girl. (Oh Pullo, you rascal!) I pass by trying to remain unseen as, for some reason, I know it's very important that the people making Rome don't see me making our movie.

Leaving the park, I see
Tilda Swinton. She is also (inexplicably) part of the Rome production, but is currently waiting for her scene to be filmed. She is about to shoot a scene where she gets skinned alive. In her hands she holds the gruesome prop: a replica of her own disembodied skin. It is pink and warm and limp. I steal it from her and run! This will be perfect. For the climax of my horror movie, I will run up wearing Tilda Swinton's skin, and scare the living bejesus out of the girls! Oh, our horror movie is going to be GREAT!

As I approach their camp, I strip naked (it doesn't occur to me at the time that this is scarier than any horror movie could ever be) and drape Tilda's skin around me. I creep up to them and prepare my best maniacal horror-movie-villain laugh...

But they are not interested. They have got sick of being in the movie, and are cooking dinner. They know I'm not really a horror-movie slasher-guy. I'm just little-old munkey dressed in a fake human skin trying to scare some girls in a movie. And they don't even care.

What the fuck is going on in my subconscious?




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