wacky dreams

I’m working on a movie set in a shiny, brand-new city somewhere in Eastern Europe. The entire cast and crew – hundreds of people – are at an enormous rooftop bar/restaurant, partying hearty. There’s a open shaft on one side of the roof which reaches all the way to the bottom of the building, and there’s a trampoline at the bottom of it. A guy starts jumping on the trampoline, and his leaps take him all the way up to rooftop level, where some of us stand idly watching him. After a moment, a rather frumpy woman walks over to the shaft. She reaches her hand over to touch the top of the guy's head as he hits the apex of each leap. She moves her hand across his head in practiced motions. Apparently she can cause his limbs to move in specific ways by making these motions; but he can only stay aloft for a few seconds, so she can’t do much with him. Then another man (a creepy little fuck) asks if he can try jumping, and everyone gets excited. They seem to expect big things from this guy and his trampolining. In fact, it turns out that he can pretty much just levitate at the top of the shaft, thereby allowing for far greater time spent as a human marionette. This naturally goes over pretty well with the crowd.

(I’m pretty sure this whole Eastern-European-movie-set-with-creepy-little-dude thing happened because I’ve been listening heavily to the band Clinic, which sounds exactly as if Peter Lorre has come back from the dead and put together a goth band. Highly recommended.)

Later...

Shosh is involved with some Catholic death cult, the members of which are going to hang themselves with elaborate contraptions on a specific date. (Each person’s hangin' apparatus is different, but they all involve the squeezing of the neck with rope, and dying. We anticipate decapitation in some instances.) I have no interest in the religion part, but I’m kind of depressed, so I join up anyway. You know, just for the suicide. We’re all living in a little room together, sleeping on cots, waiting for zero hour. I start to get scared. I go into the bathroom and have a think. I come out and announce that while I have respect for everyone else’s personal convictions, I don’t really seem to share them and I definitely don’t want to kill myself. Everyone immediately says, “Oh, well, yeah, I don’t want to kill myself either, so let’s not do that bit.”

* * *
Here’s another disturbing thing, this time one that my subconscious (unconscious? fuck you anyway, Freud) didn’t invent: Some Russians found this crazy fish that made human noises "and was rotating its eyeballs." They ate it, of course.

Also, would someone please explain to me again why I missed Morrissey taking off his shirt this weekend.