I want to write about a dream I had the other night. I woke up and wrote down all the details as fast as I could so I would remember it well:
I made a movie last night. It was set in a suburban Northeastern town in 1962, on the cusp of the Cold War Crisis. James Gandolfini played an ad salesman, his demeanor was meek and mousy. He wore Buddy Holly style glasses and sweater vests and spoke of the end of the world to his business partner, Matt Damon. The two had a huge deal coming in from a beach house in Nantucket, and once they arrive, everything collapses.
The world morphs into fantasy. James Gandolfini is the only one who is affected, however, making the viewer wonder if it is all in his head. The beach house they arrive buries itself under the sand. When they are inside, they see sunshine outside but cannot reach it. The main man they are working for has no face, or, in better words, James never sees his face as he is always turned away from him.
The house is bright grey with ugly pale pink and blue trim. The world is often bright, even though, as I mentioned before, there is no sunlight we as the viewers ever see. Anytime James tries to escape this world, he must leave through the cellar and enter the water. Whenever he goes outside, the sky is dark blue, almost black, and the water is impermeable to light. He tries to swim away, but is enticed by sirens and pulled down to the bottom of the ocean. In a flash, he is then back in the house.
In my dream, there weren’t many plot points, but it was clear that James was losing his mind before he got here and this was the straw that broke him. I plan on fully writing this out as a screenplay.