I had a crazy, vivid dream last night. I hardly ever remember my dreams nowadays, but this one was crystal clear. Maybe it had to do with the fact that I hurled my dinner just a few hours prior. At any rate, I'm bored, so I wrote it down.
It started off in some rundown part of a futuristic, Blade Runner-esque part of Los Angeles at dusk. I was looking for my best friend, Disposable White Guy. Why? I do not know. But he's been missing.
I am in front of a seven story building, which has no windows except for on the side and a large victorian door with a crazy looking doorbell. I ring it.
David Lynch opens. I question him about my friend's whereabouts, and he avoids my line of questioning, but invites me in for tea. I accept. We sit down at this huge, long table reminiscent of that Basinger/Keaton scene from the 1989 Batman. I drink my tea and he quizzes me on obscure cinema, and I start to feel sluggish. He's drugged me! I pass out, but before I do, he says, "I wish it had not come to this, Mr. Federman."
I come to being dragged by Armand Assante and Michael Biehn in some kind of cold, steel corridor. At the end of it, is Lynch standing in front of a hatch. He is smoking a pipe and motions for Assante and Biehn to put me inside. He tells me that not to worry, that it is just a submarine to keep me away from the surface while the reckoning begins. He says to enjoy myself and laughs.
I am tossed in the most lavish quarters. There is a Criterion DVD collection the likes you've never seen and classic film posters everywhere, with the room featuring an eclectic European interior design. There's a flat screen TV playing Mulholland Drive. There are two CRT monitors in the corner, one is a security camera that shows Disposable White Guy tied up! The other shows some kind of control room with a glass-wearing, short haired man at a keyboard. I've got to get out of here.
That's when I hear a noise coming from behind a wood door in the quarters. I walk inside this cold, damp room that is dark and reeks of death. I turn on the lights. My gawd! It's a full of dead, zombie-like people writhing in pain eating one another. They stir when they see me and try to lunge, but are chained to the wall. What has Lynch been doing?!?
I make for the other room, and pull the flat screen off the wall. I make a lot of noise, so Biehn and Assante come into to investigate. I whack Biehn with the TV and knock him out cold. Assante pulls a knife and cuts me on the arm; we struggle, but I get the advantage and smash the TV over his head, killing him instantly.
I flee down the corridor and run up some spiral stairs where I hear cackling at the end of the top level. I race down the corridor and enter a giant room, full of Macintosh computers and giant LCD Cinema displays. At the helm of this super rig is... TVC 15! He turns around, his eyes glowing red and hovers towards me. He yells in some tongue that only I can understand, muttering that he is the MASTER EDITOR creating some work of the Devil that can turn mankind into zombies. And I have disrupted Lynch's epic masterpiece and now must die!
He starts shooting lightning and throwing feces at me, the combination of burning poop smells awful. I see Lynch in the corner, standing with the most vacant eyes and make a move. I pick up steel pole and throw it through his chest. He dies and green gas explodes from his insides. TVC turns to normal and falls to the floor, I slap him awake but he barfs milk and dies instantly.
I run to the controls and bring the sub to the surface somehow, and I see big self destruct button - so I push it. I get to the surface hatch, and the Coast Guard, CrystalGemini and USC marching band are waiting for me. I am praised as a hero, and we race away on speed boats from Miami Vice. We watch the sub explode from the distance, killing the zombies, Lynch's satanic work and everything else inside. I saved the world from turning into zombies.
Then I remember I left Disposable White Guy in there.
Fuck.
