There's no use for rock and roll—it died for the digital age
I recognized the problems with the timeline as soon as I woke up, but any dream in which an experimental director adapts a short story of mine into a short surreal film starring Anthony Perkins is a good dream. I wish I remembered enough about the story to write it. I wish I had the time to write.
It was a small Thanksgiving this year: immediate family and no really fancy side dishes except for a new style of pie and the squash it turned out there was nothing to be done with except full military honors, but the turkey was a pearl among birds and my niece brought her new Elsa doll and demonstrated her cat meow for me and fortunately the sudden outbreak of baby spiders in the living room (which we had just vacuumed that morning, of course) held off until after she had left with her family. There are lots of baked apples left over. I foresee a pleasant frequency of Turkey Terrifics in my future.
I did not know that "behind the sofa" was a cultural trope. That is exactly how my fifth grade class watched Don Siegel's Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956). Everybody started off on or in front of the peeling, faux-leather sofa that was part of the classroom furniture, and gradually migrated behind it over the course of the film. I include myself in this group. I always assumed other people spoke from equally literal experience.
I just like this image very much: Cornelius Ary Renan, "Les Voix de la Mer" (1899). Courtesy of![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
handful_ofdust.
It was a small Thanksgiving this year: immediate family and no really fancy side dishes except for a new style of pie and the squash it turned out there was nothing to be done with except full military honors, but the turkey was a pearl among birds and my niece brought her new Elsa doll and demonstrated her cat meow for me and fortunately the sudden outbreak of baby spiders in the living room (which we had just vacuumed that morning, of course) held off until after she had left with her family. There are lots of baked apples left over. I foresee a pleasant frequency of Turkey Terrifics in my future.
I did not know that "behind the sofa" was a cultural trope. That is exactly how my fifth grade class watched Don Siegel's Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956). Everybody started off on or in front of the peeling, faux-leather sofa that was part of the classroom furniture, and gradually migrated behind it over the course of the film. I include myself in this group. I always assumed other people spoke from equally literal experience.
I just like this image very much: Cornelius Ary Renan, "Les Voix de la Mer" (1899). Courtesy of
handful_ofdust.
no subject
I very rarely know I'm dreaming. This generally leads to me being wistful when I wake up. (I don't seem to feel relieved about waking up from nightmares, which are honestly the dominant form of my dreams these days. Every now and then something is so heartrendingly awful that it is comforting to be awake. This is probably more of an indictment of the waking state of my brain than anything.)
(I used to hide behind a cushion. A much more comfortable way to cower! And I once watched modern Who with a teenager who kept disappearing to watch it from behind the doorway.)
That takes commitment!
Maybe it depends on whether you grow up in a house with the kind of couch you can peer out from behind.
I do hope you get much more time to write soon, though.
Thank you. I spent most of yesterday writing about a movie, which at least involves my brain.
no subject
Yes, that always is rotten, when the nightmare and the reality are the same, or have too much in common to be got over. I'm sorry - and I'm sorry that reality is proving so persistently rotten at the moment, too. :-/
I don't know if it's so much knowing I'm dreaming as that my subconscious seems to have set a limit on how much good fortune I can have before I then do know I'm dreaming, or too much terror. (I blame it on the stress-train dream I used to have: whenever I was due to travel or stressed, I missed endless trains in my sleep until one day I managed to catch the train and somewhere in my sleeping mind, clearly, some sort of lightbulb went on and I never missed a train again until the dream went away, and it does the same thing with other bad things sometimes. Although it's also an officious spoilsport too! I have no idea how or why or what, but there I am.)
That takes commitment!
The episode was Blink on its first showing. I started off with two teenagers (visiting my friend) who'd come upstairs to watch it with me, lost one v quickly and the other spent most of the time on the landing, but she said she'd enjoyed it.
Maybe it depends on whether you grow up in a house with the kind of couch you can peer out from behind.
Yes, that occurred to me afterwards, too - as ours was up against the wall, it would have taken some determination on our part to hide behind it! (A cushion or a stuffed (soft) dinosaur are perfectly good alternatives, though, I can attest.)