Sweet
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July 5, 1998: I am watching the new Coen brothers movie on video,
because my sister has recommended it to me. At the same time, I'm a
character in the movie (this happens to me a lot in dreams). I (in
the movie) live in an apartment with my girlfriend and some other guy
(neither of whom exist in real life). We're in the living room
deciding what we're going to do. I am standing behind and slightly to
the right of my girlfriend with my arms around her waist, and the
other guy is in front of me; I remember thinking this is a cool camera
angle. I guess we all decide to call it a day and go to sleep.
He goes upstairs (it's a two-story apartment) and she goes into the bathroom, and screams. I run in and she screams again, and points at the toilet. Lying in the toilet bowl is what looks like the tip of a tail made out of some greenish stone; the rest of the body of whatever it is must be farther down the pipe. The other roommate comes halfway down the stairs; his eyes are all puffy. "Whatever you're screaming about," he says, "I didn't do it," and heads back up the stairs. I (the viewer) am pretty freaked out by this point - I just know that this other guy is a psycho and is going to do something awful during the night - so I fast-forward the tape. When the tape starts again, it is the next morning and it is apparent that I (the protagonist) have EATEN MY GIRLFRIEND'S BRAIN! Apparently the creature in the toilet took over my mind last night and made me do it. I don't know what happened to the other guy. Now I'm REALLY freaked out. The doorbell rings. It must be the police. I start running down the stairs (our apartment is on the sixth floor) thinking maybe I can make a run for it, even though I'm wearing nothing but a shirt. But as I round a corner at around the third floor, I see two policemen coming up the stairs. I stop and pretend I was just running down to meet them. We start climbing back up the stairs... fourth floor, fifth floor, fourth floor... that's right, at some point the stairs started going down again. So I turn around, and again, the stairs go up to the fifth floor and then back down again. The policemen are not amused. They ask if there's an elevator, but there isn't. I end up turning myself in and then devoting my life to finding out what really happened. I think about rewinding the tape to see for myself, but I'm too scared. |