Last night, I had these weird dreams that I was in a kind of Manhattan Matrix sharing a strange meal with some guy named Andre. He was drinking espresso and saying how out-of-touch human beings are these days. How we're not really living.
"If you're just operating by habit," he said, " then you're not really living."
I'd heard about Andre, yet I was amazed by how transfixed I was to his intelligent conversation ~ so rare these days. Because of him, I felt inspired to pay attention to every last detail of my life, to re-awaken (And I thought I'd be bored, stuck in the same location for two hours with this guy.)
Two hours into our meal, we were interrupted by a really humorless, creepy guy with electrified hair. He told me, in a whisper, that I had an alien child and he was not going to take care of the child any longer. He started ranting at me while I stared at his hair. I chose to not hear him. I didn't want to hear him. I tried to re-focus and concentrate on Andre who was able to continue talking as though nothing had happened. But something was happening!!!
Finally, I jumped up to escape. The electrified guy followed me as I put my coat on. I walked outside, and was transported into a weird Pleasantville. Suddenly, all my surroundings were in black-and-white. But this wasn’t Pleasantville. I didn’t see Tobey anywhere. In fact, I didn’t see any other people around. I kept hearing all these strange noises and smelling these ominous fumes from factories nearby. Concrete, Run-down buildings everywhere I looked.
The electrified hair guy followed me to my car. He handed me something, wrapped in virginally white gauze. I was skeptical. A gift? How unexpectedly weird. I don’t even know this guy.
I unwrapped it to find the alien child did exist. I shrieked.
“No, No!!! It isn’t mine!!! This is Rosemary’s. It HAS to be Rosemary’s”
The electrified hair guy said nothing and walked away. Then, the alien child looked at me, rolled its eyes into its head and stretched itself out like a tree limb, umbilical cord. Then, without warning, its insides exploded in front of me like a Cornish hen. Blood everywhere. Pencil shavings fell from the sky. I felt like I'd lost my head.
Then I woke up, and decided I seriously need to change the order of items in my Netflix queue.
“My Dinner With Andre” followed quickly by David Lynch’s weird, twisted cult horror film, “Eraserhead” was enough to make me crazy (and more than enough to make me wonder if David Lynch is ever anything less than completely odd.)
“Seriously, David? I’m a little concerned…”
At any rate, if you don’t have the money or the inclination to do LSD or some other psychedelics, you can have the experience by watching “Eraserhead.”
Had I not been sober, I probably would’ve been found shaking with espresso-induced caffination and cowering in a corner of the downstairs closet this morning, vowing never to
have sex again. Thankfully, that didn't happen.
Ah, the power of celluloid.
Copyright © 2007 Kendra Liedle
Photo Credit: Elisha Cook Jr/flickr
www.davidlynch.com
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