Oct. 2nd, 2002 01:20 pm
The good, the bad, and the ugly: pt. 3
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muckefuckThe Ugly: My horrific nightmare
I don't know whether to blame it on the luscious piece of unagi I had too close to bedtime, the lingering fear that a personnel crisis would still be awaiting me in the morning, or what. But what started out as a perfectly commonplance and pleasant picaresque dream turned luridly horrid.
The sequence of scenes is fuzzy, but I remember garish preparations for a family Christmas feeding into an odd work situation (I'd forgotten to wear a shirt!), and thence into previews for a new Michael Douglas / Winona Ryder film. I was talking about it at work with my brother and then it appeared on a large screen to my right. Douglas was swimming naked in a pool in a scene edited to show as much as conceivably possible without technically being full-frontal. Apparently, a nude underwater love scene between the two stars had already made the film notorious.
Then we were at the pool and someone was with us interviewing Winona. It was either a break in filming or a post-wrap celebration, because people started jumping into the pool fully clothed. Soon, a party was in full swing. For some reason, we were joking about how prefectly edible someone's--the director's?--ear lobes were. I was egging the swimmers on with a lascivious description meant to tempt them.
Next thing I knew, one of the men in pool had leapt on top of him and actually started eating his ears. And he didn't stop there. A feeding freezy broke out and, when next I could see what had happened, the director was stripped to the muscle. Several of the men on top of him also had large patches of skin and subcutaneous fat missing. Their exposed musculature, with thick yellow and blue veins running over it, had an unreal look, as if they were only rubber costumes. But it was enough to make me flee.
I smashed through a window screen in the next room and literally flew down the hillside. Eventually, I came to a railbed. In preparation for some dangerously unsafe local festival, a line of gasoline had been spilled along the base of it for several blocks, leaving a gap of only a few feet. I knew that, that evening, it would be set ablaze and I proceeded to run inside the line of gasoline, thinking it would form a line of defence against the enraged demented cannibals who were doubtless right behind me.
Then, of course, it occurred to me that I could be caught inside the line of flames with the gang of flensed madmen. Ahead, I saw a train station and leapt up to a small concrete square beside it. In a classic reprise from bad horror films everywhere, two cops were talking about some disturbance downtown. "We'll go have a look if it turns out it's not just a bunch of kids." I knew there was no point in trying to convince them. They were both smoking and one tossed his cigarette onto my boots, which were splattered with gasoline. I leapt back.
Before I tcould think to toss the cigarette onto the line of gasoline and, hopefully, immolate my pursuers, I heard a train approaching. I squeezed my way into the station and went running along the platform until I could leap onto the back of the train. As I raced across it, looking for access to the interior, I heard the beasts screaming my name and promising to make me one of them. Although I settled into a crawl space at the front of the locomotive which left me facing backward, I still couldn't see them.
You'd think I'd feel relieved at this point, having eluded my pursuers. But I awoke in a panic, just as if the dream had ended at any earlier point. I did manage to fall asleep again, if only for an hour or less.
I don't know whether to blame it on the luscious piece of unagi I had too close to bedtime, the lingering fear that a personnel crisis would still be awaiting me in the morning, or what. But what started out as a perfectly commonplance and pleasant picaresque dream turned luridly horrid.
The sequence of scenes is fuzzy, but I remember garish preparations for a family Christmas feeding into an odd work situation (I'd forgotten to wear a shirt!), and thence into previews for a new Michael Douglas / Winona Ryder film. I was talking about it at work with my brother and then it appeared on a large screen to my right. Douglas was swimming naked in a pool in a scene edited to show as much as conceivably possible without technically being full-frontal. Apparently, a nude underwater love scene between the two stars had already made the film notorious.
Then we were at the pool and someone was with us interviewing Winona. It was either a break in filming or a post-wrap celebration, because people started jumping into the pool fully clothed. Soon, a party was in full swing. For some reason, we were joking about how prefectly edible someone's--the director's?--ear lobes were. I was egging the swimmers on with a lascivious description meant to tempt them.
Next thing I knew, one of the men in pool had leapt on top of him and actually started eating his ears. And he didn't stop there. A feeding freezy broke out and, when next I could see what had happened, the director was stripped to the muscle. Several of the men on top of him also had large patches of skin and subcutaneous fat missing. Their exposed musculature, with thick yellow and blue veins running over it, had an unreal look, as if they were only rubber costumes. But it was enough to make me flee.
I smashed through a window screen in the next room and literally flew down the hillside. Eventually, I came to a railbed. In preparation for some dangerously unsafe local festival, a line of gasoline had been spilled along the base of it for several blocks, leaving a gap of only a few feet. I knew that, that evening, it would be set ablaze and I proceeded to run inside the line of gasoline, thinking it would form a line of defence against the enraged demented cannibals who were doubtless right behind me.
Then, of course, it occurred to me that I could be caught inside the line of flames with the gang of flensed madmen. Ahead, I saw a train station and leapt up to a small concrete square beside it. In a classic reprise from bad horror films everywhere, two cops were talking about some disturbance downtown. "We'll go have a look if it turns out it's not just a bunch of kids." I knew there was no point in trying to convince them. They were both smoking and one tossed his cigarette onto my boots, which were splattered with gasoline. I leapt back.
Before I tcould think to toss the cigarette onto the line of gasoline and, hopefully, immolate my pursuers, I heard a train approaching. I squeezed my way into the station and went running along the platform until I could leap onto the back of the train. As I raced across it, looking for access to the interior, I heard the beasts screaming my name and promising to make me one of them. Although I settled into a crawl space at the front of the locomotive which left me facing backward, I still couldn't see them.
You'd think I'd feel relieved at this point, having eluded my pursuers. But I awoke in a panic, just as if the dream had ended at any earlier point. I did manage to fall asleep again, if only for an hour or less.
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