… and woke remembering the dream, so I figure, it must be noteworthy.What I remember is that I was involved in making a film with Jetse de Vries. Mind, he was in the body of this other guy I know, a filmmaker in Korea named Josh, but it was Jetse alright, and he piled us all into a train with a ton of gear including stuff you’d see inside the van of the Lone Gunmen (the conspiracy theorists guys from The X-Files) that was about to cross Korea. Jetse/Josh began monitoring something that looked like a heart monitor, with very close attention.
Feeling as if it were something I was supposed to do, I went to the back of the train car and somehow stepped out the back and then found myself sort of holding on for dear life–but, telekinetically–while the train started streaming through some kind of kaleidoscopically colorful wormhole. It felt like a rollercoaster, except I was hanging from the back of the train, watching the wormhole’s interior recede behind us. Colors were swirling, and I could see the silhouette of my own legs hanging out across them. I could not see my arms, but felt them by my sides, so I wasn’t “holding on.”
Anyway, after a period of this, which felt to me like it was too long and ought to be edited, we arrived (much faster than would have been possible without a wormhole) in Busan. We all piled out of the train, and I sprinted toward a giant trash dumpster of a kind I’ve never actually seen in Korea, hiding behind it just as I heard Josh/Jetse call, “Action!”
Then sometime passed, with me crouched and trying not to breath in case the fog of my breath in the cold night air showed up on the footage. Suddenly Bae Doona…
… ran past the dumpster, pausing, and then looking around for a moment before jumping behind it, crouching beside me. She wasn;t dressed like the above: more, a sweater and a leather jacket and weirdly pale (whitish) hair. We crouched for a long time, and I remember wondering whether this was some kind of complex long shot, some other action–pursuers?–following her, but failing to find her.
After a long while, Jetse/Josh shouted, “Cut!” and we stood, shaking hands. I asked her if she was okay, because, as she stood, the iris and pupil of one of her eyes sort of faded out, leaving only a mostly white eyeball faintly mottled with the colors that had just vanished.
“Why?” she said, her accent the same as in Cloud Atlas. “Is something wrong?”
“Your eye,” I said. “It’s…”
“What?” she said, smiling, and the eye was back to normal… just as the iris and pupil faded out on the other eye, this time leaving only a mottled reddishness where the color had been, before it reappeared. A passing effect of the wormhole traversal? Some makeup effect?
This time, I was seriously disturbed, but I shook off the reaction and hurried back to the train with her, knowing we had very little time before it departed for the next take, which would be somewhere else in the world, moments later… and I found myself more focused on reminding myself not to step out the back this time, because I really didn’t have it in me to hang on all the way through the wormhole to wherever else we were headed.
That’s all I remember. But really, it’s enough to make me wish I remembered my dreams more often. I bet it’s a virtual goldmine of weirdness.