Thursday, May 13, 2010

As Far Back As I Can Remember, I Always Wanted To Be A Gangster.

I consume a lot of media. Appreciation of cinematic art form or vice, I watch a lot of film and television. So much so, that it apparently now my subconscious turns my thoughts into a form it thinks I’m more likely to understand. I dream quite frequently in an episodic nature. I dream entire episodes, replete with advertisements, of programs I regularly watch. Sometimes I will have recurrences, but not in entirety. Instead I’ll have recurring characters (that often enter the dream accompanied by the sound of canned applause, as if to recognize the special guest star), recurring places, or references to things that have happened in previous dreams. If I wake up in the middle of the night, it’s quite possible I will fall back into a dream I had earlier, and to make it easy for me to catch up, my brain will give me a recap, a special “last time, in your dreams...” review. Frequently I switch roles in my dreams. I will sometimes be purely an observer, then an actor, then actually one of the main characters. I’ve found myself thinking, “This isn’t right. Kate was never involved with Sayid,” but typically, the dreams are so realistic, so well-written, if you will, that upon waking hours, I can’t recall if the events I remember were actually part of a program or made up. (This was quite frustrating in the days when I suffered from acute GeneralHospitalitis.)

Last night was an installment in an ongoing saga. It’s a sort of imaginary film festival, I think. This is the third in an in-the-styling of Martin Scorcese series of dreamland cinema. Part Goodfellas, part Shutter Island. It starred both Ray Liotta and Leonardo diCaprio. And, as if it needed further nods for proper homage, I am constantly reminded that these dreams are connected due to the use of “Sympathy for the Devil” playing on the soundtrack of each related dream.

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