buy a postcard when you get there
At first it felt like it was an old west dream, as I fell asleep again to Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid (though I got much further this time). But then it seemed to be much later, perhaps 1930s or something. Whenever the advent of billboards and cars were. And then in no time at all it was later still, like we were fast-forwarding through the century towards today. But the time/era wasn't really important to this one.
I was standing in a field in middle america with my wife, in a prairie flatland right alongside the highway, and we were talking about how everyone around us was getting rich and we weren't. We stood side by side staring at a vast blank white billboard over our little farmhouse. The thing must have been at least two stories high, a hundred feet wide, solid white and waiting for us to put up some kind of message.
"We own that land out at North Dead Point," I said to her. "I wonder if we couldn't turn that into pennies." (That's what I said in the dream.) "We could sell something," I think she said. And then it struck me. I spun around to face her, the billboard behind me and gave her what I remember knowing was a weird, ecstatic grin. "Postcards!" I said. "Postcards?" she echoed. She was dubious to say the least, and looked at me like I'd just gone insane. Cut to:
I look at the billboard but now it's not empty, it's got a big blue field with a tiny little brown box in the middle and some message inside the brown box, something like, "Buy a postcard when you get there!" It's something you'd have to stop your car to read, and it's a huge amount of negative space, but I'm positive this is how you sell something. You give 'em mystery! My wife still thinks I'm crazy. Cut to:
We are standing in another field, though you wouldn't know it. The "camera cut" here puts a small flat dust-colored outcropping of rock, exactly where the brown square was on the billboard. It sticks out of the the waist-high swaying grass like some kind of island, and the blue-gray grass and the blue-gray sky match the blue background of the billboard perfectly. This is North Dead Point, and in my dream logic "point" means something closer to "island" or "pointing up out of the ground," and is supposed to be a kind of hint/reveal trick. People are driving by and journeying up through the thick grass to get photographs or buy postcards of this simple rock plateau. It worked, and we are raking in the monies. Cut to:
We are old now, revisiting North Dead Point. The grass is gone and it's a desert, and this artificial landmark has lost its appeal, but only after serving its purpose by making us rich. I am struggling to get photographs out of my iPhone, always hitting the wrong button. (This I do in real life: I frame up a great/decent shot and then I fucking hit the "close app" button, the actual physical button, instead of the screen button to snap the photo, and the moment is lost; very frustrating!) First I want photos of the rock itself, and then I am chasing my baby granddaughter around in circles through the underbrush. I'm amazed at how energetic she is, and how stiff and old I am. She's this blonde-haired thing with blue eyes and a toothy smile and she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I guess that's probably what being a grandfather is.
I wake up and swear the whole thing, especially that "Postcards!" "Postcards?" moment wasn't my dream but me reliving some part from a film I've seen. But if it is, I can't figure it out now. I'm not even sure it'd be a good scene, but I sit here convinced it was a scene in something.
No work today.
Gotta try to write.
I was standing in a field in middle america with my wife, in a prairie flatland right alongside the highway, and we were talking about how everyone around us was getting rich and we weren't. We stood side by side staring at a vast blank white billboard over our little farmhouse. The thing must have been at least two stories high, a hundred feet wide, solid white and waiting for us to put up some kind of message.
"We own that land out at North Dead Point," I said to her. "I wonder if we couldn't turn that into pennies." (That's what I said in the dream.) "We could sell something," I think she said. And then it struck me. I spun around to face her, the billboard behind me and gave her what I remember knowing was a weird, ecstatic grin. "Postcards!" I said. "Postcards?" she echoed. She was dubious to say the least, and looked at me like I'd just gone insane. Cut to:
I look at the billboard but now it's not empty, it's got a big blue field with a tiny little brown box in the middle and some message inside the brown box, something like, "Buy a postcard when you get there!" It's something you'd have to stop your car to read, and it's a huge amount of negative space, but I'm positive this is how you sell something. You give 'em mystery! My wife still thinks I'm crazy. Cut to:
We are standing in another field, though you wouldn't know it. The "camera cut" here puts a small flat dust-colored outcropping of rock, exactly where the brown square was on the billboard. It sticks out of the the waist-high swaying grass like some kind of island, and the blue-gray grass and the blue-gray sky match the blue background of the billboard perfectly. This is North Dead Point, and in my dream logic "point" means something closer to "island" or "pointing up out of the ground," and is supposed to be a kind of hint/reveal trick. People are driving by and journeying up through the thick grass to get photographs or buy postcards of this simple rock plateau. It worked, and we are raking in the monies. Cut to:
We are old now, revisiting North Dead Point. The grass is gone and it's a desert, and this artificial landmark has lost its appeal, but only after serving its purpose by making us rich. I am struggling to get photographs out of my iPhone, always hitting the wrong button. (This I do in real life: I frame up a great/decent shot and then I fucking hit the "close app" button, the actual physical button, instead of the screen button to snap the photo, and the moment is lost; very frustrating!) First I want photos of the rock itself, and then I am chasing my baby granddaughter around in circles through the underbrush. I'm amazed at how energetic she is, and how stiff and old I am. She's this blonde-haired thing with blue eyes and a toothy smile and she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I guess that's probably what being a grandfather is.
I wake up and swear the whole thing, especially that "Postcards!" "Postcards?" moment wasn't my dream but me reliving some part from a film I've seen. But if it is, I can't figure it out now. I'm not even sure it'd be a good scene, but I sit here convinced it was a scene in something.
No work today.
Gotta try to write.