Wednesday, Aug 17, 2005 - 11:58

Hello gentle Reader.

Have awoken from 2 dreams so far this morning; the first was just kind of strange and slightly amusing – the second…? Well, not so big on the fun. So we’ll start with the first one, shall we?

I dreamt that I was a part of the cast of the new film version of the old sitcom Bewitched. Well, that is to say that initially I had the omniscient point-of-view, watching over the action of the dream at first. But then I became a central character… indeed, I was playing the role of Samantha Stephens!

My memory of it is no longer clear, but I was aware in the dream that something was horrendously wrong; I knew that Nicole Kidman was mean to be playing Samantha, and couldn’t quite grasp why I had been frocked up and thrown into the role. Interestingly enough, Elizabeth Montgomery was also appearing in the new film, but she was playing Serena, Sam’s kooky and mischievous ‘twin’ cousin. And Tabitha was also in the film – but she was about 11 years old and a real brat; like the stereotypical, self-obsessed US teenaged girl you see in all those appalling films/TV shows.

Also, Agnes Moorehead was in the film playing Endora, rather than Shirley MacLaine, and David White was playing Larry Tate, and Paul Lynde had the role of Uncle Arthur.

In fact, I remember having a conversation with David White as we watched a scene being shot with Uncle Arthur accidentally crashing into a wooden doghouse in the rear yard of the Stephens’ household; David was telling me in confidence that Dick Sergeant, a.k.a. Darrin Stephens #2, had been his favourite ‘Durwood’, as Dick York, a.k.a. Darrin Stephens #1, had been a pain in the arse to work with.

I listened to his story, trying to appear calm and relaxed, but all I could think about was how pissed
Nicole Kidman was going to be when she discovered I’d stepped in and taken her role! And I was a bit puzzled as to why no one seemed to be the least bit perturbed about my being male!

And then I recall shooting a scene indoors, in the living room of the Stephens’ house – just as it had been in the original series – and talking to Agnes Moorehead, saying how I glad I was she was playing Endora, as she’d been one of my all time favourite characters. Agnes smiled and laughed and seemed delighted to hear this.

Then I was called up for my scene, which required me to do the famous ’Samantha Nose Twitching’-bit, only I couldn’t get it right! And the director kept on yelling: ”Cut! Cut! No, no, no! That’s all wrong! Let’s try it again, shall we…? Places people – from the top of the scene… and - action….!”

But no matter how hard – or often – I tried, I just couldn’t get the nose twitching thing to happen just right… indeed, I woke up from the dream feeling distressed and annoyed with myself, and I was twitching my nose! I kid you not, gentle Reader!

I only wish the second dream had been half as lighthearted… That is what has well and truly woken me up, you see, and I’m now not in any great rush to go back to bed.

I was sitting outside a café on Commercial Road. At one of the tables, I flicked through a newspaper and had a cup of coffee close at hand. It seemed like a pleasant, sunny day, and plenty of people were wandering up and down the strip.

I happen to glance up and saw Simon walk into the café. He didn’t seem to have noticed me. He went straight to one of the tables that was against the window, looking out across the pavement. A guy was already sitting there. I believe, based on what I now recall of his physical appearance, that it was David (Simon’s ex).

I held my newspaper up at an angel to shield me from their view, peering over the top now and again to see what was going on. They appeared to be chatting in a reasonable manner and absorbed in their own company, not having noticed me. I hoped that I would be able to leave without attracting their attention – particular not Simon’s.

I vaguely recall putting the newspaper down and standing up, and then I noticed that David was now seated at the table inside alone. But what seemed strange was how he was seated; his body was slumped slightly to one side, his forehead and cheek pressed up against the glass of the window. My body ached and tingled with dread. Yet still I went into the café.

I went to the table at which David was sitting. As I drew closer, my mind was trying to make sense of what I was seeing, even as I reached out to shake him – gently – and straighten him up in the chair.

As I pulled him upright, the skin that had been in contact with the window adhered to the glass surface as if it were molasses… it stretched thin… snapping in places. And where my hand held him, his body just caved in, for there was nothing beneath the skin to support it; no flesh, muscle cartilage or bone – no organs. All that was left of David was his skin, perfectly in tact and holding his shape as if it had been cast from a mould.

I looked into empty eye sockets and a mouth that had dropped in (I assume) terror and pain… and all I could see in them was the interior of his empty skin…

I called out for help but no one came… and then the dream jumped a bit. I was outside, on the street, running. I saw someone seated behind the wheel of a parked car. I ran up to them and knocked on the driver’s side window, wanting to ask them for help… but even as I knocked on it, I could plainly see that their body was in a similar condition to David’s – just a hollow skin, slumped against the driver’s side window, staring with empty sockets up at me.

I kept running, spotting other bodies (or rather ‘skins’) at different locations; some slumped against the facades of shops, or leaning awkwardly at traffic lights and so forth, or sitting at benches… Then I was on my own, familiar street.

I ran into the apartment building and then into my apartment, slamming the door shut behind me and making to dash up the corridor to my bedroom (I have no idea why this seemed like a good idea). But I found that the corridor to the bedrooms was filled by a tangle of barbed and razor wire. So I span round and made for the living room instead.

There I found my 3 cats lying on the living room floor. All of them had had their legs brutishly snapped off. I stared at them feeling sick to my stomach, for they were still very much alive, wriggling and mewling in pain and terror.

And then I saw Simon, standing by the fish tank (his fish tank, a.k.a. the ‘whale tank’), near the living room window. In his left hand he held the cats’ legs. He held up the other hand to me.

“For you, Jay…” he said.

I saw 2 rings on the palm of his right hand, both made of barbed wire. “One for each of us,” he said. “’Til Death do us part…”

I was crying, distressed by the sight of my cats and the horrific noises they were making. Simon stepped closer to me, holding out their legs as if they were some kind of grisly bouquet. “I’ve got to kiss the bride,” he said, looking serious.

It was at this point I noticed his lips; something on them seemed to be moving. As he got closer I could see that his lips had tiny mouths dotted all over them; these ugly orifices flexed, opened and closed, and seemed to wriggle as though alive. They were circular, and when they opened you could catch a glimpse of a tiny black maw surrounded by tiny, needle-sharp teeth.

And so Simon came upon me, filling my vision, and then I understood that it had been him that had sucked all the flesh and bones from all those people I’d seen… At which point, I woke up...

<< - >>

Hit Me! & Clix Me!

All original images & written content are
Copyright Jay Kerin

< ? Screen Dream # >