Lucid

I’m lying on the couch in my living room, feeling sluggish and lethargic and thinking about taking a nap. It’s a still, warm day, all is quiet. Nothing of interest is happening, no one is around, and the only question in the universe is “Should I take a nap now?”

I realise, as you sometimes do, that I’m actually still asleep, that morning is approaching, and I’m having a dream about whether to wake up or remain asleep. In the dream, on the couch, I know this is an important discovery. I am gripped by the instant knowledge that if I succeed, if I fall asleep while already asleep, if I dream while already dreaming, that in some way I will open new frontiers of consciousness, new powers of the mind, new ways to manipulate time and reality.

I remember that this is not a completely new concept and that the phrase “a dream within a dream” is not totally unknown up to this point. But the feeling that everything can be accomplished, that IT can be done, that vast untapped reservoirs of power and knowledge are hidden just behind this invisible barrier, is inescapable, and raises goosebumps all over my flesh.

Shiny Monsters

Alonzo is filming us, his little camera whirring away as we picnic, smoke, relax in the sun. He’s a ball of electricity, an energetic, fast-talking Italian, always moving and thinking. Even now, as we take a break from filming the movie, he’s filming us taking a break.

Though I’m an American who speaks Italian, I affect a French accent when speaking to the camera. I’m always up for another acting challenge – or maybe I lie because I enjoy lying, and not from any necessity or goal. We’re filming a message, a video postcard, to the wealthy film buff widow who is bankrolling us. We call her “Nonni”, and wave and laugh and smile as we tell her how the movie is going. “...Having a great time, we wish you could be here with us.” More lies – all we want is her money. Catherina and I, the lead actors in our low-budget masterpiece in the making, hold hands, lay in each other’s arms as we enjoy the warmth, the camaraderie, the wine. Everyone wears sunglasses and berets. It might not be the 70’s, but it feels like the 70’s.

Later, an additional acting challenge. Alonzo reports that for budgetary reasons he has to change one of the antagonists. The heretofore-named “Second Shiny Monster” will now be called “11-foot Goblin.” It’s a shame, as I really liked the way it was, and the screenplay will have to be re-titled something besides “Shiny Monsters”. I ponder the effect this will have on my performance, running my hands up and down Catherina’s legs.