(Entered in paper journal at 5:53 AM at home in Harlem.)
Dream 1
I saw my Americorps crew mate MG at some restaurant. He sat at a table over some rice and peas or curry-type meal. A waiter who was extremely tall bent over, his face unseen, and hocked a long, slow, stringy spit onto MG's meal. MG sat there, shocked and amused.
Now it was like I could simultaneously see MG telling me about this meal and having the meal. First he told me about the waiter crapping on his meal.
He said, "This is what you come to the restaurant for, though, is to eat the food however they make it for you."
Now I saw the spit again as MG talked about it.
Dream 2
I was in a store like Kmart. I kept trying ot get to the lingerie section. But some guys were following me around. I wanted to lose them.
Dream 3
I stood on some lake edge boardwalk or covered porch area, looking out at the grey and silver, rippled water. It was a sunny day. I stood with R's friend KZ and some other guy, who was a good friend.
KZ was talking about three screenplays. He was going to produce the first or second one first. It wasn't as good as the first or second one, but it was more budget-friendly as a first movie. Then he was going to produce the XXXXX one, which was actually a good screenplay. But as for the last one (which I felt was the best) -- he didn't know if he even wanted, he said, "To produce a film with a... reviving rhinoceros?"
I generally looked off into the distance as if I had nothing to do with this business. it was like I had nothing to do with it. But the truth was I was key in the creation of these screenplays. I may even actually have written them, though XXXXX was taking credit. The only screenplay I was being recognized for was the "reviving rhinoceros" one, and I was only being recognized for the crazy inventions.
But I was resigned, though slightly resentfully, to all this mistreatment. I don't know how I knew all this "backstory." I just felt it.
Showing posts with label screenplay. Show all posts
Showing posts with label screenplay. Show all posts
Saturday, March 11, 2017
Thursday, March 2, 2017
(9/10/05) rose arches; pornographic bookmark; whatever god blesses will be blessed; broken cell phone; revenge of the pirates
(Entered in paper journal at 9:15 AM at the Tea Lounge on Union Street and 7th Avenue in Brooklyn.)
Dream 1
It was night. I was walking with my friend and NYC Americorps coworker KB along a street in a busy part of a desert town. The street was on a hill, sloping up to the street where we were, and sloping up from either side of the street we were on to the point where we stood. We were getting ready to leave "work" for the day, but I wanted to cross the street.
KB and XXXXX (some male coworker) ha dgone to a restaurant I thought was special. I was kind of sad they hadn't invited me. But I looked across to where they had gone. It was just a small place with a white plastic sign, backlit by fluorescent lighting, saying "First Avenue XXXXX." There may have been a rose shape on the sign.
I said, "Oh, it was only there? I don't need to go there." So we turned around.
Before we went home, KB had to show me something on the other side of the hill. As we went down I saw the tops of the arches of an old McDonald's building.
All the lights were off, and the arches might have been smashed.
Dream 2
I was in a room with my friend R. It may have been night. A light was on. R showed me some porno magazine. He showed me the girl he liked. At first I didn't want to see it. I didn't want R to think I liked pornography. But then I looked.
R showed me how he had the page saved with a strand or a few strands of long, metallic-purple hair bound about three-quarters of an inch up by a small string of beads, tan and brown, in an austere pattern.
Dream 3
I walked into a church with my mom. We met a nun who was going to read and pray about a screenplay I had written. The manuscript was huge. I don't think my mom approved of it. The nun was pretty, though old, and a tiny bit pale and chubby-faced.
The nun took my manuscript. We walked along with her through a maze of domed and columned rooms both large and small. The place was dark, but dazzling images like moving stained glass windows were playing against the walls and our bodies. The images were mostly white, grey, blue, and purple, and seem mainly to have featured doves.
My mom kept telling me and the nun how she didn't think she thought the screenplay was very godly and how she would do what she could to make religious people agree. I kept telling her and the nun things like, "We're here to see what God says about my screenplay. If God like it, then this is one time you won't be able to hinder my success."
My mom appealed solely to the nun now. I said to the nun, "It doesn't matter what my mom convinces you about. Whatever God blesses will be blessed, and you will be the messenger of that blessing."
The nun took my statement as pride and said, "Well, I haven't prayed to God yet, so watch how you treat me." She walked away to pray.
I now realized I had given the nun the wrong manuscript. The manuscript I had given her was a novel of the plot, not a screenplay. I had taken the story too seriously in the novel, and it had turned out petty and boring. The screenplay was much more fun. I didn't want the nun to think that I had made such a big deal out of such a bad work.
Dream 4
I was outside during the day. Maybe on some tall bridge. I got a call on my cell phone from my Aunt P. She spoke in a very low and gravelly voice. She said something like, "Since you never call me, I decided to call you. I know you don't care about me and you don't want to hear from me." I was about to tell her that wasn't true and that I loved her. But my phone broke.
I walked to a car where my NYC Americorps crew chief SM sat. My phone was broke in half, like the only thing that had held it together were two black wires which were now snapped.
SM saw my phone and said, "You shouldn't have a nice phone like that! Let me see it." I gave him the phone.
The car SM sat in was short and full of trash and blankets, so that SM seemed to be hiding from everything. I looked away from the car, as if standing below the car door. Like the door opened upward instead of outward.
I saw a T-Mobile store across a parking lot. I could feel the rest of my Americorps crew somewhere. I thought, This time I'm taking my phone directly to the T-Mobile store, and I'll exchange it for something free right there.
SM was doing something I didn't like on my phone. I told him to give me my phone back. He gave me my old phone back. It was broken in half, but it worked. But I wanted my new phone. Somehow I got it.
I checked my bill on my old phone. I was surprised, having gotten my new phone, that my bill wasn't enormous. But I saw that T-Mobile had put the charge on a deferred payment plan. I scrolled down to see what the changes would be for the next few months.
Now I had my new phone. I walked through a street with tall buildings close on either side. I read two text messages I had received, one from my mom and one from my grandfather. The messages were both like goodbye messages.
The one from my mom made it sound like I was dead. It said something like, "I am glad I had the time with you up until 9/10/05, and I'll always remember how you loved us all." I was really upset that my mom thought I was dead. I wanted to call her back, but now I had no reception on my phone.
I was now part of some movie about a young man who was a fashion brat and who only wanted to hurt people.
Dream 5
A movie or TV show of which I was somehow a part, in which a group of pirates or criminals were trapped in some brown-metal, mushroom shaped building and stalking out of the ocean. "I" handed the people some kind of sweet food through prison bars. They may not have received it, or they may have dropped it.
Now the focus was on a canal-filled town in the "17th" (18th?) century. A group of rich people were on a big ship just outside the town. The air and sky and water all had a coppery tinge. The prisoners had escaped, and they were all coming on a rowboat to attack the ship. They would succeed if they reached the ship. They were all dressed in rich, beautiful clothing, and that showed they had been mistaken as something lower than they were by being kept captive. They were coming to avenge themselves.
But "I" knew some of us on the ship had actually done something to help them. If I could convince them of that before they attacked, I might be able to save us all. I didn't know if i could. Their plan was to begin killing as soon as they got on board.
Dream 1
It was night. I was walking with my friend and NYC Americorps coworker KB along a street in a busy part of a desert town. The street was on a hill, sloping up to the street where we were, and sloping up from either side of the street we were on to the point where we stood. We were getting ready to leave "work" for the day, but I wanted to cross the street.
KB and XXXXX (some male coworker) ha dgone to a restaurant I thought was special. I was kind of sad they hadn't invited me. But I looked across to where they had gone. It was just a small place with a white plastic sign, backlit by fluorescent lighting, saying "First Avenue XXXXX." There may have been a rose shape on the sign.
I said, "Oh, it was only there? I don't need to go there." So we turned around.
Before we went home, KB had to show me something on the other side of the hill. As we went down I saw the tops of the arches of an old McDonald's building.
All the lights were off, and the arches might have been smashed.
Dream 2
I was in a room with my friend R. It may have been night. A light was on. R showed me some porno magazine. He showed me the girl he liked. At first I didn't want to see it. I didn't want R to think I liked pornography. But then I looked.
R showed me how he had the page saved with a strand or a few strands of long, metallic-purple hair bound about three-quarters of an inch up by a small string of beads, tan and brown, in an austere pattern.
Dream 3
I walked into a church with my mom. We met a nun who was going to read and pray about a screenplay I had written. The manuscript was huge. I don't think my mom approved of it. The nun was pretty, though old, and a tiny bit pale and chubby-faced.
The nun took my manuscript. We walked along with her through a maze of domed and columned rooms both large and small. The place was dark, but dazzling images like moving stained glass windows were playing against the walls and our bodies. The images were mostly white, grey, blue, and purple, and seem mainly to have featured doves.
My mom kept telling me and the nun how she didn't think she thought the screenplay was very godly and how she would do what she could to make religious people agree. I kept telling her and the nun things like, "We're here to see what God says about my screenplay. If God like it, then this is one time you won't be able to hinder my success."
My mom appealed solely to the nun now. I said to the nun, "It doesn't matter what my mom convinces you about. Whatever God blesses will be blessed, and you will be the messenger of that blessing."
The nun took my statement as pride and said, "Well, I haven't prayed to God yet, so watch how you treat me." She walked away to pray.
I now realized I had given the nun the wrong manuscript. The manuscript I had given her was a novel of the plot, not a screenplay. I had taken the story too seriously in the novel, and it had turned out petty and boring. The screenplay was much more fun. I didn't want the nun to think that I had made such a big deal out of such a bad work.
Dream 4
I was outside during the day. Maybe on some tall bridge. I got a call on my cell phone from my Aunt P. She spoke in a very low and gravelly voice. She said something like, "Since you never call me, I decided to call you. I know you don't care about me and you don't want to hear from me." I was about to tell her that wasn't true and that I loved her. But my phone broke.
I walked to a car where my NYC Americorps crew chief SM sat. My phone was broke in half, like the only thing that had held it together were two black wires which were now snapped.
SM saw my phone and said, "You shouldn't have a nice phone like that! Let me see it." I gave him the phone.
The car SM sat in was short and full of trash and blankets, so that SM seemed to be hiding from everything. I looked away from the car, as if standing below the car door. Like the door opened upward instead of outward.
I saw a T-Mobile store across a parking lot. I could feel the rest of my Americorps crew somewhere. I thought, This time I'm taking my phone directly to the T-Mobile store, and I'll exchange it for something free right there.
SM was doing something I didn't like on my phone. I told him to give me my phone back. He gave me my old phone back. It was broken in half, but it worked. But I wanted my new phone. Somehow I got it.
I checked my bill on my old phone. I was surprised, having gotten my new phone, that my bill wasn't enormous. But I saw that T-Mobile had put the charge on a deferred payment plan. I scrolled down to see what the changes would be for the next few months.
Now I had my new phone. I walked through a street with tall buildings close on either side. I read two text messages I had received, one from my mom and one from my grandfather. The messages were both like goodbye messages.
The one from my mom made it sound like I was dead. It said something like, "I am glad I had the time with you up until 9/10/05, and I'll always remember how you loved us all." I was really upset that my mom thought I was dead. I wanted to call her back, but now I had no reception on my phone.
I was now part of some movie about a young man who was a fashion brat and who only wanted to hurt people.
Dream 5
A movie or TV show of which I was somehow a part, in which a group of pirates or criminals were trapped in some brown-metal, mushroom shaped building and stalking out of the ocean. "I" handed the people some kind of sweet food through prison bars. They may not have received it, or they may have dropped it.
Now the focus was on a canal-filled town in the "17th" (18th?) century. A group of rich people were on a big ship just outside the town. The air and sky and water all had a coppery tinge. The prisoners had escaped, and they were all coming on a rowboat to attack the ship. They would succeed if they reached the ship. They were all dressed in rich, beautiful clothing, and that showed they had been mistaken as something lower than they were by being kept captive. They were coming to avenge themselves.
But "I" knew some of us on the ship had actually done something to help them. If I could convince them of that before they attacked, I might be able to save us all. I didn't know if i could. Their plan was to begin killing as soon as they got on board.
Friday, February 17, 2017
(4/4/06) subject of a screenplay
(Entered in paper journal at 6:12 PM at Starbucks on 43rd Street and 3rd Avenue.)
Dream 1
There was a short man standing by a door. He was hemming and hawing over some man who hadn't yet come into the room. The man by the door was some kind of screenplay writer or novelist. The man who hadn't entered yet was the subject of the play the man was writing or getting ready to write. The screenwriter wanted to make sure the man didn't feel offended by anything he wrote.
The "subject" now entered. He was enormous -- he almost didn't fit in through the door, and he had to duck to get in. He spoke with a thick accent. He was white, with short, messy hair, and a tan corduroy jacket lined with sheepskin.
The screenwriter set the man down at a table and spoke with him, asking him things about the to-be-written screenplay, trying to prove to him he was smart enough to be consulted about his own character.
I was now the writer. I looked down at a form as I spoke with the actor. There was a space to be filled out below a paragraph of information. I was writing, according to this sheet, a small work to go in the middle of a work by a more famous director. There were a number of themes and a setting I had to stick with. The setting was Eastern Europe. One theme was breaking the law. Another was either carbonated beverages or soda machines.
I kept asking the man what ideas came to his mind when he thought of those themes, especially since he came from Eastern Europe. But at the same time I didn't want him to think that I, by associating him with the setting of Eastern Europe, associated him with another theme, i.e. breaking the law, and thus insinuated that he was a criminal.
Dream 1
There was a short man standing by a door. He was hemming and hawing over some man who hadn't yet come into the room. The man by the door was some kind of screenplay writer or novelist. The man who hadn't entered yet was the subject of the play the man was writing or getting ready to write. The screenwriter wanted to make sure the man didn't feel offended by anything he wrote.
The "subject" now entered. He was enormous -- he almost didn't fit in through the door, and he had to duck to get in. He spoke with a thick accent. He was white, with short, messy hair, and a tan corduroy jacket lined with sheepskin.
The screenwriter set the man down at a table and spoke with him, asking him things about the to-be-written screenplay, trying to prove to him he was smart enough to be consulted about his own character.
I was now the writer. I looked down at a form as I spoke with the actor. There was a space to be filled out below a paragraph of information. I was writing, according to this sheet, a small work to go in the middle of a work by a more famous director. There were a number of themes and a setting I had to stick with. The setting was Eastern Europe. One theme was breaking the law. Another was either carbonated beverages or soda machines.
I kept asking the man what ideas came to his mind when he thought of those themes, especially since he came from Eastern Europe. But at the same time I didn't want him to think that I, by associating him with the setting of Eastern Europe, associated him with another theme, i.e. breaking the law, and thus insinuated that he was a criminal.
Wednesday, February 15, 2017
(5/14/06) my roommate the black ghost; screenplay microorganisms; my boss's calendar
(Entered in paper journal at 10 AM at Ozzie's coffee shop on Garfield and 5th Avenue in Brooklyn.)
Dream 1
I was in the bathroom. I turned on the shower and heard one of my roommates walk out of his bedroom. I looked through the peephole in the bathroom door (?). I saw the roommate like a black ghost. He walked to my bedroom door. I heard a clicking or shoving. The roommate was trying to get into my room, but he couldn't. He walked back to his room.
Dream 2
I was at work. I received a manila envelope somehow as I was walking down the floor to meet someone. I didn't think about it at first. I mulled over the label and realized the sender, "ADM" (?), was a place I had submitted my screenplay to. I believe the sender's label may also have been in the recipient space.
I walked back to my desk to open the envelope. I thought, It will only take a second, and then I can get to my meeting. I walked over to my boss EB's office, perhaps to tell him about the response I had received. But when I walked to the corner with his office, the light outside his office went out. I took this to mean something bad, and I walked back to my desk. I figured if EB walked out of the office he would see me, but that he probably wasn't in his office. The place felt very busy, but I felt all alone.
I opened the package. Out spilled a typed copy of my screenplay, the notebook in which I had written my screenplay, and a slew of other papers of all sizes, from regular 8 1/2 x 11 to some hotel paper in dimensions like 6 x 9 to scraps and Post-it notes, with all different styles of writing.
I found a (handwritten?) letter which told me the screenplay had been reviewed by three different people, and their criticisms and comments were in the following bundles of papers. I believe the letter also said the screenplay had not been accepted.
I grabbed random papers. One said the screenplay was very good, that it flowed smoothly. Another few papers actually gave sketches for characters in my screenplay. They all looked weird like microorganisms. One was kind of like this.
I fumbled through the papers, trying to figure out why the people would put so much work into a rejection, down to sending me character sketches. I also waited for people in the office to walk past my desk so I could tell them about the response.
Dream 3
I sat at my coworker DE's desk, watching DE do something on the computer. Now he was on Outlook, showing me my boss BS's calendar.
DE said, "Look how much BS is going to be gone this month. That's why we have to XXXXX while he's here, to make sure everything is in good working order."
Looking at the calendar I couldn't see how DE thought BS was going to be gone so long.
Now BS walked down the floor past us without even noticing us. He stood in the corner by my desk. The floor where DE and I were was dim, like ceiling lights had gone out. But by my desk it was bright.
BS looked for me, then, not seeing me by my desk, said something like, "Where did that guy go now?" implying that I was lazy.
I stood up at that, a little annoyed to be thought of as lazy. I called for BS and raised my hand. BS saw me. I walked toward him, saying, "What did you need? I was just over here doing what you said DE and I had to do."
Dream 1
I was in the bathroom. I turned on the shower and heard one of my roommates walk out of his bedroom. I looked through the peephole in the bathroom door (?). I saw the roommate like a black ghost. He walked to my bedroom door. I heard a clicking or shoving. The roommate was trying to get into my room, but he couldn't. He walked back to his room.
Dream 2
I was at work. I received a manila envelope somehow as I was walking down the floor to meet someone. I didn't think about it at first. I mulled over the label and realized the sender, "ADM" (?), was a place I had submitted my screenplay to. I believe the sender's label may also have been in the recipient space.
I walked back to my desk to open the envelope. I thought, It will only take a second, and then I can get to my meeting. I walked over to my boss EB's office, perhaps to tell him about the response I had received. But when I walked to the corner with his office, the light outside his office went out. I took this to mean something bad, and I walked back to my desk. I figured if EB walked out of the office he would see me, but that he probably wasn't in his office. The place felt very busy, but I felt all alone.
I opened the package. Out spilled a typed copy of my screenplay, the notebook in which I had written my screenplay, and a slew of other papers of all sizes, from regular 8 1/2 x 11 to some hotel paper in dimensions like 6 x 9 to scraps and Post-it notes, with all different styles of writing.
I found a (handwritten?) letter which told me the screenplay had been reviewed by three different people, and their criticisms and comments were in the following bundles of papers. I believe the letter also said the screenplay had not been accepted.
I grabbed random papers. One said the screenplay was very good, that it flowed smoothly. Another few papers actually gave sketches for characters in my screenplay. They all looked weird like microorganisms. One was kind of like this.
I fumbled through the papers, trying to figure out why the people would put so much work into a rejection, down to sending me character sketches. I also waited for people in the office to walk past my desk so I could tell them about the response.
Dream 3
I sat at my coworker DE's desk, watching DE do something on the computer. Now he was on Outlook, showing me my boss BS's calendar.
DE said, "Look how much BS is going to be gone this month. That's why we have to XXXXX while he's here, to make sure everything is in good working order."
Looking at the calendar I couldn't see how DE thought BS was going to be gone so long.
Now BS walked down the floor past us without even noticing us. He stood in the corner by my desk. The floor where DE and I were was dim, like ceiling lights had gone out. But by my desk it was bright.
BS looked for me, then, not seeing me by my desk, said something like, "Where did that guy go now?" implying that I was lazy.
I stood up at that, a little annoyed to be thought of as lazy. I called for BS and raised my hand. BS saw me. I walked toward him, saying, "What did you need? I was just over here doing what you said DE and I had to do."
(5/27/06) maverick's crash; shower by the fridge
(Entered in paper journal at 10:11 AM at Starbucks on 1st Street and 7th Avenue in Brooklyn.)
Dream 1
I was walking with my friend R and some other man down a vacant city street on a sunny day. We walked up to an orange Ford Maverick with its back end halfway up on the sidewalk and all its doors open.
I was very surprised and happy to see a Ford Maverick. I yelled to R, "This is the same kind of car that I -- that I --" I think I was trying to say, "the same kind of car that I got into a car crash in." But I couldn't figure out how a person would say that.
R and possibly the other person didn't wait for me to finish. He/they said, "All the doors are open. Let's steal it!" I knew they wanted to do something bad with it and probably do something bad to me afterwards. I didn't get into the car. The car drove off, though at least R was in the backseat and probably nobody was in the driver's seat.
The car drove across the street (day turned instantly to night), not down the street. Before the car got all the way across the street it was smashed on both sides by three cars.
I looked inside the car. One man had gotten out. R was still inside, hunched forward over the back of the driver's seat. It looked like he was knocked out or asleep. But I was pretty sure he was dead. I knew he couldn't hurt me now. But I was also afraid of seeing the dead body of someone I knew so well. And I also was afraid that he really wasn't dead.
Dream 2
I was in a shower in someone else's house -- a good friend's house. The shower opened by the curtain directly to the hallway and across from the kitchen.
Two friends of my good friend walked into the house. They may have been staying there for a while.
I slid the shower curtain open to see who was there. I partially closed it when I saw they were right there by the fridge. But I kept it a little open to say hi to them, even though I didn't necessarily know them.
One person was a man like B, one of the workers at Inwood Park I'd met while with Americorps: a little trendy-looking, tall, straight-laced, but scruffy. The other person was a transgender person like Ignacio in the Almodovar film Bad Education mixed with the transgender person I worked with sometimes at Riverside Park.
I kept trying to get a direct look at the transgender person, but I couldn't. She even seemed to shrink, become fat and dumpy, and finally to become a woman and not a transgender person at all.
I was then in a bedroom. My brother sat on a bed. He had a screenplay he was showing me. He asked a couple questions about it. I was trying to encourage him and let him know that he had a good chance of being successful.
But now another guy came into the room and said something really mean and intimidating to both me and my brother. I was suddenly afraid to tell my brother he could actually be successful.
Dream 1
I was walking with my friend R and some other man down a vacant city street on a sunny day. We walked up to an orange Ford Maverick with its back end halfway up on the sidewalk and all its doors open.
I was very surprised and happy to see a Ford Maverick. I yelled to R, "This is the same kind of car that I -- that I --" I think I was trying to say, "the same kind of car that I got into a car crash in." But I couldn't figure out how a person would say that.
R and possibly the other person didn't wait for me to finish. He/they said, "All the doors are open. Let's steal it!" I knew they wanted to do something bad with it and probably do something bad to me afterwards. I didn't get into the car. The car drove off, though at least R was in the backseat and probably nobody was in the driver's seat.
The car drove across the street (day turned instantly to night), not down the street. Before the car got all the way across the street it was smashed on both sides by three cars.
I looked inside the car. One man had gotten out. R was still inside, hunched forward over the back of the driver's seat. It looked like he was knocked out or asleep. But I was pretty sure he was dead. I knew he couldn't hurt me now. But I was also afraid of seeing the dead body of someone I knew so well. And I also was afraid that he really wasn't dead.
Dream 2
I was in a shower in someone else's house -- a good friend's house. The shower opened by the curtain directly to the hallway and across from the kitchen.
Two friends of my good friend walked into the house. They may have been staying there for a while.
I slid the shower curtain open to see who was there. I partially closed it when I saw they were right there by the fridge. But I kept it a little open to say hi to them, even though I didn't necessarily know them.
One person was a man like B, one of the workers at Inwood Park I'd met while with Americorps: a little trendy-looking, tall, straight-laced, but scruffy. The other person was a transgender person like Ignacio in the Almodovar film Bad Education mixed with the transgender person I worked with sometimes at Riverside Park.
I kept trying to get a direct look at the transgender person, but I couldn't. She even seemed to shrink, become fat and dumpy, and finally to become a woman and not a transgender person at all.
I was then in a bedroom. My brother sat on a bed. He had a screenplay he was showing me. He asked a couple questions about it. I was trying to encourage him and let him know that he had a good chance of being successful.
But now another guy came into the room and said something really mean and intimidating to both me and my brother. I was suddenly afraid to tell my brother he could actually be successful.
Saturday, November 17, 2012
(9/12/09) script coach
(Entered in paper journal at 7:54 AM at Connecticut Muffin in Windsor Terrace, Brooklyn.)
Dream #1
I was somewhere with a very pretty, tan-skinned girl with long, black hair. We may have been in a room on a ground floor, which had a wide door-wall open to something like a summery courtyard.
The girl had read through my screenplay. She thought the story was good. She said she was going to re-write the script, though, on her own. She scrolled through the screenplay from the end backwards. The end of the screenplay was full of writing, as if the characters gave nothing but monologues, which filled the pages. As the play progressed backwards, the monologues/dialogues may have tapered off a bit.
The woman began speaking to me about some of the elements of the screenplay, as if she expected me to go write the play or parts of the play, though she was still thinking of herself as having written the whole play (even though she said she was going to re-write it, not that she had already re-written it). The things the woman said were very interesting. They possibly had something to do with efficiency.
I saw a small pond in the sunlight. A little turtle plopped up to the surface of the water and then dove back down.
Dream #1
I was somewhere with a very pretty, tan-skinned girl with long, black hair. We may have been in a room on a ground floor, which had a wide door-wall open to something like a summery courtyard.
The girl had read through my screenplay. She thought the story was good. She said she was going to re-write the script, though, on her own. She scrolled through the screenplay from the end backwards. The end of the screenplay was full of writing, as if the characters gave nothing but monologues, which filled the pages. As the play progressed backwards, the monologues/dialogues may have tapered off a bit.
The woman began speaking to me about some of the elements of the screenplay, as if she expected me to go write the play or parts of the play, though she was still thinking of herself as having written the whole play (even though she said she was going to re-write it, not that she had already re-written it). The things the woman said were very interesting. They possibly had something to do with efficiency.
I saw a small pond in the sunlight. A little turtle plopped up to the surface of the water and then dove back down.
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