So, I felt like I should bloggaloggadingdong tonight so that I could recount a weird dream I had a week ago (when we were making the film).
Some of you have already heard me tell this story, and if so, you can stop reading. But I warn you! Those who have already heard the story and do indeed decide to stop reading: sporadically, I am going to make nasty subliminal statements about you as I describe the dream in the next few paragraphs. So....keep up.
It's not that big of a story, but it's definitely one for the schizophrenic records.
(a photographic representation of my schizophrenia)
Last Friday, the first day of shooting, after a long and laborious - but absolutely fabulous - day of directing, I curled up in my bed and found that I couldn't turn my pea-brain off. But, I tried...oh boy, did I.
At one point I thought I had finally dozed off, but I found that it was just me having a waking dream--or, nightmare. In the dream I was laying in my bed, staring at my ceiling (the exact same as I was in real life) but I was paralyzed, listening to my voice in my head saying over and over and over again, "Cut, let's do it again. Back to one everybody." And this was repeated over, and over, and over. Then, there was a little change-up. Suddenly, I could hear my actress Leslie saying the line,"I saw your Dad the other day. He looks good." and then I would immediately chime in and say - without any rhyme or reason - "Cut. Let's do it again. Back to one." It happened maybe 1,000 time that night. I wanted to die. And by the next morning, I felt like placing an icy gun against my head and pulling the trigger. I also felt like apologizing to Leslie. There was nothing freaking wrong with the way she was saying it!
This leads us back to the question Du Jour:
WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME!?
Any answers to this question or solutions--barring a sanitarium--would be much appreciated.
However, do you find it slightly ironic that I would be recounting this dream to you when I also added a new layout about graduation and accomplishments? I am just proving that I should probably be put in a padded cell. If anyone in the Graduation Gestapo takes a gander at my blog, they may seriously revoke my oncoming diploma.
Good luck finding me though. I changed my name to Pepper Potts on my graduation application.