I had the most vivid nightmare last night; it was a whole episode of “The X-Files” (which is odd, as I haven’t seen the show in years, since it started taking itself sooo seriously). Anyway, I was Agent Scully, and I had to go to a mental institute to interview this Manson-like serial killer from c1970. Turns out the guy had taken over the whole place through mind control, a la “Dr. Caligari,” and stopped time in 1970. I was very annoyed that none of their files were computerized and my cell phone didn’t work (good comic bits here!).
There was one really scary scene where I get into a freight elevator and this “orderly” (actually the killer) is standing outside looking in at me through the elevator window. As I went down floor by floor, there he was, still looking in at me, and I kept nervously checking to see the elevator didn’t stop—I wasn’t even 100% sure it was him, the window was so dirty.
I can’t remember a lot of the plot points, but at the end I managed to run out of the building, with him hot on my heels—but as soon as we got outside, this “Lost Horizon” effect kicked in and he suddenly became very old and frail. The last thing I remember is him crawling back into the institute, where he ran his own little 1970 kingdom. I woke up scared as the bejeebers and thinking, “golly, that would make a good episode!”
No need to comment on this, I just wanted to share—no sense letting a perfectly cool nightmare go to waste!
I don’t remember a lot of dreams but I am a lucid dreamer so I’m usually aware that I am in a dream. Sometimes I get fooled as I did last weekend.
I’m riding around in front of a decrepit mall on a bike. I’m not wearing shoes so the pedals make my feet hurt and I decide to go find my truck. As I stare down a row of similar white trucks I realize I’m wearing nothing but sweat pants with no pockets for my keys. I start freaking about about my keys.
I wake up.
What a dream. I play the details over to firm up the memory of the dream and get out of bed for my morning routine. In the bathroom I find the toilet leaking on the floor. Damn, have to call the manger to fix it. Walk out into the living room and shock, all my stuff is gone. Cleaned out except for a table against the wall. Someone’s banging on the door and I open it to ask who they are and what’s going on. Apparently my apartment has been rented and they’re putting my stuff into storage. I start screaming bloody hell and threaten to sue the bastard into the stone age. I need to get this mess straightened out. My keys were in the pants I had thrown on the floor but they ar gone now. Where the hell are my keys?
See the pattern?
I wake up and as soon as I realize I’m really awake this time I laugh like an idiot for five minutes straight.
It sounds like a really great nightmare, Eve, but next time you better dream a parallel Mulder subplot or Duchovny’s going to be pissed at not getting enough screen time.
I’m probably going to get a nasty letter from David Duchovny’s agent about this. Maybe I should read the cover story on him in Movieline, then eat bagels and ice cream right before going to bed?