(Entered in paper journal at 6:08 AM at home in Harlem.)
Dream 1
I saw a newspaper photo (the subjects of which seemed to be in motion before freezing into their photographed position) of Quentin Tarantino hunching down to the ground and eating grass. The caption below the photo said Tarantino, in keeping with his "method" style, was living in Africa as an ape in preparation for his next film. A couple of his actors were also there.
I was in a front yard now. It looked like a stage. The place was dark, but dark like stage walls, while everything else was dimly stage-lit. A house was at the top of a long, slight hill of dirt with a few thinning islands of grass. A white car like a Brat or possibly a long-bodied sedan was backed halfway up onto the lawn.
My mom was walking toward the car. I tried to tell her about the photo and caption. But I kept messing up at Tarantino's name. I kept calling him "Terence something."
Right before I got the name right my mom said, "I don't know who you're talking about. And I don't like any of his movies except XXXXX." (Reservoir Dogs) (Pulp Fiction) "So don't waste your time."
I tried to tell her that this movie was actually going to be a lot like Pulp Fiction.
No comments:
Post a Comment