A Freudian Field Day

As promised...

Before I start telling you about this dream, I feel I have to let you in on some of the particulars of my waking life. First, I live in Bucks County, PA; also home to a certain bad filmmaker who shall remain nameless for now. Second, I have a deep love of theme parks, amusement parks, carnivals and church fairs. Third, I also have a fascination for abandoned places, particularly abandoned theme parks. And fourth, I have already talked about my proficiency for theatrical makeup. That's all you need to know to get where this particular dream may be coming from.

So... I dreamt that I had been asked to look at some makeups for an upcoming movie. Some friends (people I'd never seen before, but in the way of dreams, I knew) and I were ushered into a room filled with actors who were sporting half-completed clown makeups. Once we had chosen our favorites, we were then invited to watch the filming of a scene from a new movie about a haunted theme-park (a screenplay idea that's been percolating in my head for some tie, now).

As my 'friends' and I arrive on set, we quickly realize who the director is and I quip that said director "...couldn't make a good movie if Hitchcock was whispering in his ear throughout the shoot." Of course, by the third time I've uttered this phrase, said director is standing in front of me, glaring angrily at me. He looks away and calls "Action."

Amusement rides start up; neon lights flash and people scream in delight. But something is wrong. Screams of delight turn to screams of fear as gondolas begin to fly off of Ferris Wheels; rollercoasters careen out of control and actors are actually killed. I turn to the director and start to scream at him to cut, but he merely laughs and says "Aren't you scared?" It was then that I woke up; angry, scared and just a little out-of-breath.

So, what does it all mean? I'm not sure. In full disclosure, I've been dreaming about insanely dangerous rollercoasters for much of my life. Usually, I am in line for such a ride, but never actually get on. And in real life, I adore coasters. I once spent a vacation with a friend riding as many coasters along the East Coast as we could find. I awoke from this dream with a feeling of dread, but fascinated all the same.

So, is Uncle P completely insane? Does my inability to ride these potentially deadly dream coasters have some significance? Or is my waking life simply intruding on my subconscious? I remain confused...

Next time, we'll talk about the Murderous Mummy dream from last night...

More, anon.
Prospero

PS - I've actually ridden the coaster featured in the above clip, Universal Studios' "Incredible Hulk Coaster." It's awesome!

Alien Hand Syndrome?

A dearth of anything truly interesting to say combined with a particularly nasty bout of Seasonal Affective Disorder have left your Uncle P in a rather dour mood of late.

I'm still keeping my Dream Journal though, and hope that my most recent bizarro dream about Alien Hands (don't ask, just yet) will result in another full-fledged screenplay, though I have to wonder where that particular scenario might lead. The dream itself involved dismembered alien hands that turned into feet which grew legs that developed into a torso... And no, I didn't eat anything strange, spicy or greasy before bed last night. I'd detail the entire dream here, but I don't want to risk your thinking I'm completely insane (as if you don't already think that, anyway).

I am still feeling rather trapped by snow (and not at all happy to hear that another major storm may be headed our way this coming week), despite having done some grocery shopping today (parking was a literal nightmare, thanks to the 8+ feet high piles of snow in the stores' parking lots). Give me a day or so to cope and I'll be back to my usual shenanigans. Or not.

In the meantime, I encourage the less squeamish among you to check out Bugcrush, a short, gay-themed horror film from 2006. Suggested by J.A. at My New Plaid Pants and posted on Post-Mortem Depression, this short (31 minutes) but effective film captures gay teen angst in a way that few modern filmmakers have been been to do. It's also probably NSFW.

Bear with me. Spring is just around the corner. 

More, anon.
Prospro

Dream, dream, dream...

I don't know when my zombie fascination started. Probably with George Romero's 1978 masterpiece, Dawn of the Dead. The nightmares didn't start until much later, though.

The first one I remember distinctly was incorporated into my screenplay Army of the Dead, though I had the dream at least 10 years before I even started writing screenplays. Of course, the screenplay I am working on now was almost entirely inspired by a zombie nightmare. 

And last night, after watching the season finale of "The Walking Dead," I had a doozy, in which Uncle P's own mother was a cheek-less zombie, though she wasn't fully aware that she was a zombie. She kept asking, "I'm supposed to eat people? No, that can't be right." The dream eventually got silly, involving a castle about to be flooded to destruction, Dear D and a Katy Perry zombie that just couldn't be put down, even after her head had been bashed to bits with a chrome tire-iron...

Of course, much of that can be directly related to "TS-19," but most of it was just completely off the wall, as most of my dreams (nightmares or not) are. Occasionally, a dream or nightmare is so vivid it ends up being a full screenplay, as with Comatose Joe and my current project, though usually only certain elements make their way into my writing, as in Chimera and The Cow Says: Moo! More often than not, my dreams are so bizarre, they defy interpretation. Case in point - I recently dreamt that I was part of a theatrical production which was reproduced by another race of beings in a dimension which vibrated on a different frequency than ours. And that's all I can tell you about it without you thinking I'm completely insane (which no doubt, many of you already think, anyway). 

I keep a dream journal on my nightstand, and write down the significant details of dreams I think my have potential commercial value, but save the weirdest ones to share with friends and family (none of whom are surprised those dreams' weirdness). I suggest that you do as well. You have no idea when your subconscious might come up with a brilliant idea or two...

Pleasant dreams...

More, anon.
Prospero

Forgetten Gems: "The 5000 Fingers of Dr. T."

It sounds like a horror movie, doesn't it? And to be honest, that's probably what made me watch this 1953 musical fantasy in the first place. Seeing "Seussical" last night brought it all back, and I was embarassed to admit that I'd left it off several previous lists.

The 5000 Fingers of Dr. T is a live-action dream fantasy from non-other than Dr. Seuss, himself. It tells the story of young Bart Collins, forced by his mother to take piano lessons from Dr. Terwilliger, whom Bart is convinced is an evil genius, bent on taking over the world (and stealing his mom). Bart's only hope is the handsome plumber, August Zabladowski, who may or may not be sweet on Bart's mom, Heloise. The action takes place when Bart falls asleep while playing Dr. T's own composition "10 Little Happy Fingers" (part of 'The Terwilliger Method').

Directed by Roy Rowland with production design by Rudolph Sternad and Art Direction by Cary Odell, Dr. T is the epitome of Seussian humor and design, from the curvy wobbly architecture to the zany, colorful costumes and so silly (but perfect) rhyming lyrics. It screams "Seuss," though he reportedly had his name removed from the initial prints (IMDb credits him for both story and screenplay - I'll have to pop in my old VHS copy to see the credits, there).

The title role is played by versatile character actor, Hans Conried, who that same year voiced Captain Hook in Disney's classic Peter Pan. The part is perfect for Conried, who is clearly having a marvelous time, as evidenced by this clip of the number "Do-Mi-Do Duds" (which is also a pretty good example of the lyrics and costumes I was just talking about):

I just love the way Conried's costume is put together like a puzzle. And while the song's lyrics are exceptionally silly, Conried attacks the song with gusto, practically relishing in its ridiculousness.

Top billing went to Mary Healy (who?) as Heloise and the incredibly generic Peter Lind Hayes (who?) as the plumber. Both are fine and have nice voices (and I can imagine SNL's Will Forte as Zabladowski in the unneccesary Tim Burton remake). Tommy Rettig plays Bart, part Dennis Mitchell and part Beaver Cleaver; a typical 1950's kid with a big imagination.

And while I could find no credit for choreography, I can't help but mention the movie's best dance number, 'The Dungeon of Screechy Violins,' in which dozens of half-naked prisoners play outrageous musical instruments in the movie's most homo-erotic scene. The music is practically Gershwinesque (Gershwinian?), but the dancing is so very gay. Watch closely and you may catch a glimpse of young George Chakiris (West Side Story):

Wow! And I'll bet you thought xylophone players were gay before you even saw that!

The movie features a chase by twins (conjoined by the their beards - I kid you not) on roller skates; hypnotism; pickle juice; uniformed thugs; a piano big enough to seat 500 imprisoned boys and a possibly nuclear weapon created with an air-freshener, the contents of Bart's pockets and and a hearing aid.

Delightful family fun, The 5000 Fingers of Dr. T is bizarre and hilarious, and deserves to be seen. If you've never seen it, I urge you to seek it out. I promise you'll have fun.

More of this, anon.

prospero

(Halloweeen?) Dreams

I had two very different nights of dreaming last night and the night before.

Wednesday night/Thursday morning, I had two very nightmarish dreams. First, I dreamt that I had to retrieve some item or other from the storage space in my house, a room which to which we have always referred as "the unfinished room," simply because that is exactly what it is. Anyway, as I was getting ready to close the door, I noticed a large, horrific bug of some kind scuttling across the plywood flooring. The thing was huge; almost rat-sized and colored unlike anything found in nature in obnoxious shades of red, green, blue and yellow. I thought to myself "That's too horrible to live" and promptly stomped on the hideous thing. But when I raised my foot, I found that I hadn't done it any damage at all. Instead, the little beastie turned about, puffed up and starting squirting something akin to acidic green slime at me. I raised my hands to protect my face and quickly slammed the door shut. Curiously, I felt no pain, but knew instinctively that I had been covered in acid. In the absurd logic of a dream, I next found myself in the shower, watching with detachment as bits of clothing, blood and flesh slid down the tub drain.

After awakening, happy to find myself whole and entimologically unmolested, I checked the time on my alarm clock (4:09 AM), quickly recorded the dream in the black side of my reversible dream diary, rolled over and almost instantly fell back to sleep, assuming that the dream was the result of seasonal influences.

Which is when I had my second nightmare of the morning. A very dear friend's birthday is on Halloween. I bought him a truly hilarious and spot-on present while in Chicago on business and plan to see him sometime next weekend to celebrate. In this dream, he had arrived at my house in preparation for us to go out. I wasn't quite ready to go, so when a knock came on the door, I asked him to get it. He opened the door and before anyone could say anything, a madman burst in and started hacking at my friend with a cleaver. I awoke screaming my friend's name and crying. Now the clock read: 6:47 and my hand trembled as I made another entry into the black side of the book, despite knowing the dream was the result of seasonal (and personal) influences.

Less than immediately, I fell back into a dreamless state until the alarm went off. I went about my day trying to shake both dreams' disturbing qualities. I am sure that both scenarios (or variations thereof) will appear in a future play, screenplay, novel or short-story.

Last night proved to be a very different and surprisingly inspirational night of dreaming. I found myself dragooned into appearing as a costumed-character at an event celibrating the success of a new animated children's show on a prominent kid's cable network. While happy for the extra cash the gig provided, I was annoyed at having to wear a hot and uncomfortable character costume (I've worn my share - they're no fun). But the kids' enthusiasm upon seeing their favorite characters "in the flesh" was almost palpable. Since I plan on actually using the characters in this dream to develop an actual animated children's program, I won't go into detail here, but I will tell you that I am often amazed by the detail one's subconscious can display when inspired. The dream even provided clever character names along with the hilarious visuals. Friends both old, new and yet to be appeared in the dream as well, portraying the other characters from the show.

Thoughts? Am I insane? Do I watch too many movies or drink too much Diet Cherry-Vanilla Dr. Pepper? Or am I just a weirdo who has dreams that match the rest of my personality? I know it's a dark and scary place up here, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Your thoughts and comments are always welcomed.

As always, more of this anon.

Prospero