dreamscape
last night, dreamed in movie tones:
[ext. long shot of a canyon, the massive walls rise straight as rulers to a cloud-filled sky. the sun, descending towards dusk, burns through the grey to dazzle, blind yellow, stain the walls of the canyon a deep red. running between one wall of the canyon and the other, but still a full mile above the river at the basin (the river itself winding in a single long, slow sine curve from the edge of frame to the horizon) is a solidly constructed black bridge, at the center of which stand a series of tall, tube-like structures, each painted a different colour (red, pink, yellow, black) and capped by a bulbous, spherical tip (small points of light there indicate the windows of boardrooms, kitchens, hallways, laboratories - vast, inner networks of society.) Other buildings line the length of the bridge, cars drive from one end to the other, small, metallic objects that must be vehicles drift calmly among the spires - the bridge is a city.]
[zoom in to the center of the city. the spires grow larger, and fine details come into sharper focus: long, thin strands of tubing line the sides of the spires along with thousands of windows, exhaust vents leaking harmless gasses into the atmosphere. glass bridges connect one spire to another, and people in dark, tasteful suits walk along them, backlit by the fading sun.]
[cut to ext. street. the road is brown, sand-covered - strong winds sweep dust from the plains above the canyon to blanket the streets and walkways, pile small dunes against the sides of buildings. i walk quietly into a brown, adobe appartment complex. the hallway is all mahogany, the floor slightly concave and smooth, greyish where it's been worn away by countless steps. a flight of stairs stand empty to the left.]
[cut to int. i walk the stairs calmly, casually, although at no time am i unaware that my life is in danger. there is a brooding, menancing quality to the silence, as if unseen watchers lurk in shadows, just behind corners. i try to remind myself that i've planned this all carefully, that my decoy is out there, moving in another direction, visible to everyone.]
[cut to int. from a large, square window the last of the dying light filters into the room, suspends a near static shaft of dust in an amber glow. the room is empty - no furniture, the only motion the slow descent of the dust. i walk across the room, open a door at the far end and walk into another room. this one is smaller, with a smaller window and less light. i open the window and step out onto a ledge.]
[cut to ext. i ease my way along the ledge, a low wind blowing dust in my eyes. i keep my body pressed to the building's tan, exterior wall. i am higher out here than the single flight of stairs i've climbed deserves - a quiet, deserted alley lies 50 feet below me. i turn a corner on the ledge, step out above the main street - for a brief moment i am instantly visible to anyone who bothers to look up. i quickly open a window and slip inside.]
[cut to int. you're standing at the far end of a narrow room. your sand coloured dress falls in easy, pleated folds to the floor. you turn from an antique stand mirror to look at me. i walk towards you, but stop two meters away.]
me: don't go out tonight.
you: why?
me: they're watching.
you [anxiously]: who is watching?
me: [i struggle to pronounce their name, but the words twist inside my mouth, come out strangled]: they see everything.
...
i wake up.
[ext. long shot of a canyon, the massive walls rise straight as rulers to a cloud-filled sky. the sun, descending towards dusk, burns through the grey to dazzle, blind yellow, stain the walls of the canyon a deep red. running between one wall of the canyon and the other, but still a full mile above the river at the basin (the river itself winding in a single long, slow sine curve from the edge of frame to the horizon) is a solidly constructed black bridge, at the center of which stand a series of tall, tube-like structures, each painted a different colour (red, pink, yellow, black) and capped by a bulbous, spherical tip (small points of light there indicate the windows of boardrooms, kitchens, hallways, laboratories - vast, inner networks of society.) Other buildings line the length of the bridge, cars drive from one end to the other, small, metallic objects that must be vehicles drift calmly among the spires - the bridge is a city.]
[zoom in to the center of the city. the spires grow larger, and fine details come into sharper focus: long, thin strands of tubing line the sides of the spires along with thousands of windows, exhaust vents leaking harmless gasses into the atmosphere. glass bridges connect one spire to another, and people in dark, tasteful suits walk along them, backlit by the fading sun.]
[cut to ext. street. the road is brown, sand-covered - strong winds sweep dust from the plains above the canyon to blanket the streets and walkways, pile small dunes against the sides of buildings. i walk quietly into a brown, adobe appartment complex. the hallway is all mahogany, the floor slightly concave and smooth, greyish where it's been worn away by countless steps. a flight of stairs stand empty to the left.]
[cut to int. i walk the stairs calmly, casually, although at no time am i unaware that my life is in danger. there is a brooding, menancing quality to the silence, as if unseen watchers lurk in shadows, just behind corners. i try to remind myself that i've planned this all carefully, that my decoy is out there, moving in another direction, visible to everyone.]
[cut to int. from a large, square window the last of the dying light filters into the room, suspends a near static shaft of dust in an amber glow. the room is empty - no furniture, the only motion the slow descent of the dust. i walk across the room, open a door at the far end and walk into another room. this one is smaller, with a smaller window and less light. i open the window and step out onto a ledge.]
[cut to ext. i ease my way along the ledge, a low wind blowing dust in my eyes. i keep my body pressed to the building's tan, exterior wall. i am higher out here than the single flight of stairs i've climbed deserves - a quiet, deserted alley lies 50 feet below me. i turn a corner on the ledge, step out above the main street - for a brief moment i am instantly visible to anyone who bothers to look up. i quickly open a window and slip inside.]
[cut to int. you're standing at the far end of a narrow room. your sand coloured dress falls in easy, pleated folds to the floor. you turn from an antique stand mirror to look at me. i walk towards you, but stop two meters away.]
me: don't go out tonight.
you: why?
me: they're watching.
you [anxiously]: who is watching?
me: [i struggle to pronounce their name, but the words twist inside my mouth, come out strangled]: they see everything.
...
i wake up.