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Sat, Aug. 21st, 2004, 10:28 pm
My subconscious should do films.

This was a very visual dream: it had a freaking art style! It looked like Lenore and “The Nightmare Before Christmas” had a head-on collision, and an art style woozily got up and walked away. At the same time, I can't help but feel that it was also part me: my own aesthetic senses dictated a lot of the motion and colors. In any case, on with my animated dream.

A shot of a brick wall. It's dark, like light – the dark before twilight. Some sounds of people talking excitedly, then a scream! A loud crash, and some metallic wreckage hits the wall. A girl, no older then eleven, creeps into view. She cautiously keeps a good watch on where the wreckage came from. She's dressed in slightly eccentric black and purple clothing, a back-pack for school, and has big green eyes. (Remember, she's stylized.) Her eyes widen, and she rushes across the shot before another piece of debris hits the wall and a loud, eldritch roar is heard. The shot pans up to show a spooky, almost alien metropolis.

After some interesting shots of the bizarre denizens of the city and their activities set to music, the shot pans through a classroom full of equally bizarre young elementary students. A droning voice is heard in the background, and the students all look like they are somehow sleeping with their eyes (if they have any) open, or are about to fall asleep traditionally. Eventually, the camera stops at the door, which is opened from the outside by the girls from before. She sighs, and glances beyond the shot. “I'm la–“

“You're late.” the droning voice unnecessarily interrupts.

“I ran into–“

The camera switches perspectives to a desk of a creepy-looking middle-aged man that looks like he was rendered in cardboard and actualboard. “We'll have to call your mother. Again.” he says monotonely over our heroine. “Here's a note for the office.”

The camera switches back to the door, and a slip of paper falls perfectly into her hands. She raises an eyebrow at it and sighs again. She zips quickly back out of the classroom, closing the door behind her.

Before the instructors droning voice can start again, one of the students comment, “She's the only one who will still take the short way down Phantomside!” Another remarks, “Doesn't she live there?”

The camera follows beside as our heroine rushes quickly through the large shapes and various smaller figures representing the moving, busy forms of staff and students. She arrives at the principal office, and throws the note onto a small metal basket on the secretary's desk. As she does so, the secretary says “Hello, [the girl's first name. Why can't I remember?].” without looking up.

The principal, a large demonic figure, also doesn't look up- as she enters. He is distracted with paper-work, and silently pushes a phone forward. She picks it up and dials a number quickly. After a ring, a voice purrs. “He~lo. You have reached Phantomside boutique, I am Ms. [The girl's last name. Why. Can't. I. REMEMBER?!], how may I help you.”

Our heroine sighs and answers, “It's me.”

The camera switches to what I can only describe as a non-stereotypical witch. She is wearing all the normal witch accessories, is middle-aged with long white hair, but isn't cartoonishly grotesque like the witches you see on, um, cartoons. She is sitting behind a counter, and a glass show-counter can be seen behind her. She seems shocked for a moment, then she slaps her head in frustration. “[Our heroine's name], this is the sixth time this week!”

(Yes, that was a joke. She said this statement in such a way that it is true. In this place, obviously, children either go to school more than five days a week or weeks work differently. This information is conveyed in such a way to be a little surprise faux absurdity for the aware viewer, blah blah blah.)

A brief, not-quite angry conversation happens here, with the perspective switching back and forth between the two. As the exchange grows more heated, the camera switches faster and faster until the Principal interrupts with “Stop! I'm dizzy.” Additionally, a small red creature apprehensively climbs out of a lamp in the glass case behind her mother. After the conversation is over, her mother looks back at the little red creature, and it says that “I'm just going out for a smoke!” and he blows a big cloud of smoke out of his mouth.

In the conversation, we learn that the girl is insisting past the shop on Phantomside street after school (their house is upstairs, see) and going to the café past it because her sister is in town for a gig at just that café, but just for a few hours. Apparently, our heroine really loves her big sister, who is a touring musician. However, there is a dangerous urban ghost-beast – it had an interesting name, but I can't remember it either for some reason! – that has been haunting Phantomside Street and the surrounding area. It is very dangerous, and the police haven't been able to neutralize it because of its ability to hide in graffiti. Luckily, it only comes out in the dark.

(Yes, this somehow all fits into a quick, emotional mother-daughter conversation. It was too much specifically worded dialogue for me to recall and write out. Too bad: it was really good stuff. Fast-paced rhyming, puns – the works!)

Our heroine goes back to class, back to the droning of the teacher and her comrades' mental and physical strain to remain conscious under its boring weight. However, she does something different. She opens her history textbook and studies an image. After a few moments, she slowly waves her hand over it, and an ethereal sheet of colors and lines appears over the image. She waves her hand downwards, and it floats into the image on the page, and it changes into something similar, but different. The effect is quite humorous, like an instant Photoshop job done right there to the paper. She smiles, and she does this to several others, each creating an amusing edit of the original picture. This is far more innovative than slapping a mustache on peoples' faces, no, she is far more creative and humorous than that.

Eventually, the camera pans down from a gray, cloudy sky onto our heroine and a small group of her classmates. They are sitting on some bar playground structure. They talk briefly about the ghost-beast, and how cool our heroine's sister is. She insists that she will go see her sister and catch their last song at the café.

One of her classmates interject. “Unless it gets dark. Then [the ghost-beast's name] will come out. You can't even get home then.”

“No, I get past it all the time. Besides, how can...” She trails off as it starts to snow. A small wind pulls her hair back and they all look up. The camera does a dynamic 360 pan around our heroine to follow her gaze. They are looking at dark, heavy clouds on the horizon. Big, dark, hulking clouds.

The perspective flips to a photo-advertisement in a magazine. The image distorts and changes into a humorous version of the same photograph, and the instructor's voice picks up again. The camera pans back to show our heroine is modifying pictures in a magazine that is concealed by a textbook. After a few calm moments, there is some upset outside the door, and the Instructor trails off. The door opens, and the camera zooms in on the opening agent: the Principal! He excitedly explains that they must stay after school because the ghost-beast is out and attacking the Northern end of the Phantomside Street, and all citizens in the area must stay indoors until he leaves. The bell rings.

The camera pans down to our heroine. Her face twitches slightly. Her face twitches a lot. She emits an extremely frustrated sound, and she snaps a pencil in half. Excited, angry music starts as she leaps out of her desk, throws her book into her bag, throws it over her shoulder, and rushes past the Principal – out the door. Instead of pushing through the combative forms of staff and students like she did before, she violently zips through them. The perspective switches back to the Principal. He blinks. He produces a phone from out of nowhere, and puts in on the board-rendered Instructor's desk. “Better call her mother.”

Our heroine powers through, under, over, and past crowds of excited people and giant robot-like police things. Snow ripples in elaborate patterns in her tailwind. (If you haven't figured it out by now, this girl moves FAST.) The perspective switches to the ornate front door of the Phantomside Boutique, which bursts open as her mother rides through them on a broom and zooms North through the street. They meet beside where the ghost-beast is wreaking havoc. They start arguing over its screams and roars, the police's attempts to fight it, and all of the havoc it causes. Her mother argues that our heroine is too stuborn, and she is going to get hurt. Our heroine insists that she is going to see her sister, and nothing is going to stop her. During the exchange, they calmly dodge hurled debris from the ghost-beast. Eventually, the ghost-beast hides in the graffiti beside the arguing pair.

Finally, our heroine loses her head at the argument, and creates a large ghostly sheet of color and line, and slams it onto the graffiti. The graffiti disapears, revealing only the ghost-beast. The camera violently pans back to show the crowd of citizens and the police, and the surprised expression of the ethereal ghost-beast for a nice visual gasp of shock. After about five seconds, the camera violently zooms back and around to look at our heroine from the ghost-beast's perspective. She slowly looks up, ever so slowly, and grins maniacally as heroic, excited music starts. (Think of The Pillow's 'I Think I Can'. It's a lot like that.)

As the music plays, the ghost-beast attempts to hide in several walls, but our heroine clears the graffiti with her tallent each time. Eventually, there is no more graffiti to hide in, and the police and her mother zap the ghost-beast. After a colorful flash of light, all is black.

A microphone comes into a view. A hand reaches out and adjusts it a little and a young woman who looks a lot like our heroine comes into view. She pulls an electric guitar from around her shoulder as she says, “This one is for my little sister, who had to go through a lot to see me play here tonight!” She smiles and the band starts to play. The camera switches perspective to the calm, smiling face of our heroine, who nods. The camera pulls back to reveal her mother, who is holding a gigantic, shiny medal with the engraved words “FOR ACTS OF REALLY, REALLY, REALLY COOL BRAVERY”. It contiues to pull back to reveal the Principal, a crowd of the police-robots, the kids she was hanging out with at recess, several public-official types, and all of the café people.

Then some weird stuff happened with cars.

What? It was a dream, not a movie short or something.

Sheesh. I don't dream credits. I hope that wasn't what you were expecting. XP

I think I had several mini-dreams after this, but I can't even remember them now. This one was just too damn vivid, colorful, and interesting not to remember and record. So, here we are: I'm recording it, you're reading it, and now you're reading about me recording it and you reading about how I'm recording that you read that I recorded what – okay, moving right along!

Sun, Aug. 22nd, 2004 06:12 am (UTC)
farhoug

When is your dream coming to the international distribution or can I just download it from the 'net? =)

Damn, why I don't see that kind of dreams. Or remember them even if I do see them. *grumbles*

Sun, Aug. 22nd, 2004 11:03 am (UTC)
alfador_fox

I wish I could remember MORE of the really good dreams, instead of cracked shards of memory.

Sun, Aug. 22nd, 2004 11:31 am (UTC)
masstreble: Random synapsis firings misinterpreted as sensory input.

I think people just work in different ways. Sometimes, I just have really thematic dreams, and remember them because they are interesting.

Some people have only nightmares. We should both be happy we aren't one of them.

Sun, Aug. 22nd, 2004 12:41 pm (UTC)
farhoug: Re: Random synapsis firings misinterpreted as sensory input.

I guess my dreams need some kind of interruption, otherwise they are "wiped" from the memory.

Sometimes on a lazy morning I intentionally keep sleeping a bit later if it seems that something interesting is going on in the dream world...
I guess the best dreams have been when the clock is ringing every 6 minutes, I wake up enough to "commit" those dreams to memory and then continue sleeping. Heh, the best I've been snoozing that way was 90 minutes... My neighbors must love me if that sound carries to their apartments. =)

I guess I should write those dreams down when I still remember'em.

Nightmares, haven't had those in ages. At least I remember them... =)
*goes to play some Doom3, the nightmare in 3D*

Sun, Aug. 22nd, 2004 03:31 pm (UTC)
holohedron

Less than three!

Sun, Aug. 22nd, 2004 09:18 pm (UTC)
masstreble: ???

Don't get ambigious with me, young man! :<

Now, what are you responding to?

Sun, Aug. 22nd, 2004 11:58 pm (UTC)
holohedron: I repeat:

<3

Mon, Aug. 23rd, 2004 08:58 pm (UTC)
masstreble: Ahh!

143?

Mon, Aug. 23rd, 2004 09:03 pm (UTC)
holohedron: Re: Ahh!

Approximately.

and i know where you ripped *that* from, smart boy. ;p

Mon, Aug. 23rd, 2004 09:21 pm (UTC)
masstreble: ^__^

Yay!♥

Hey, is it my fault I'm one of queenofstripes's hitmen? XD

Mon, Aug. 30th, 2004 09:58 pm (UTC)
masstreble: Ohhhhh.

I just realized, over a week later, that you were talking of kiala.

...But what then? XD

Wed, Sep. 1st, 2004 04:56 pm (UTC)
holohedron: Re: brilliant deduction!

Sorry, but my heart is with the Waffle.

Now guess who I am on PBX. :D

(hint: I've left a red herring or two)

Mon, Aug. 23rd, 2004 01:37 am (UTC)
sparksol

Heh. Neat stuff, there. Vaguely disturbing, no more than a pinch of realism, decent brain-twisting happening, and I distinctly felt by brain stretch a bit.

^_^ Keep up the good work.

Mon, Aug. 23rd, 2004 08:46 pm (UTC)
masstreble: Perfect!

Vaugely disturbing? Oh, yes. That's the sweet spot.

Tue, Aug. 24th, 2004 03:24 pm (UTC)
sparksol: Re: Perfect!

Well, yeah.

A little bit Okage:Shadow King, a little bit Xanth talent, I'm sure the street name was inspired by Earthbound, a bit of anime physics (is that Puni Puni Poemi I detect?), and overall strong imagination blowing bubbles made from liquid nitroglycerine.

What's not to enjoy? (What was the old motto...oh yes: 'Determined to Disturb.'