Alien Hand Syndrome?

A dearth of anything truly interesting to say combined with a particularly nasty bout of Seasonal Affective Disorder have left your Uncle P in a rather dour mood of late.

I'm still keeping my Dream Journal though, and hope that my most recent bizarro dream about Alien Hands (don't ask, just yet) will result in another full-fledged screenplay, though I have to wonder where that particular scenario might lead. The dream itself involved dismembered alien hands that turned into feet which grew legs that developed into a torso... And no, I didn't eat anything strange, spicy or greasy before bed last night. I'd detail the entire dream here, but I don't want to risk your thinking I'm completely insane (as if you don't already think that, anyway).

I am still feeling rather trapped by snow (and not at all happy to hear that another major storm may be headed our way this coming week), despite having done some grocery shopping today (parking was a literal nightmare, thanks to the 8+ feet high piles of snow in the stores' parking lots). Give me a day or so to cope and I'll be back to my usual shenanigans. Or not.

In the meantime, I encourage the less squeamish among you to check out Bugcrush, a short, gay-themed horror film from 2006. Suggested by J.A. at My New Plaid Pants and posted on Post-Mortem Depression, this short (31 minutes) but effective film captures gay teen angst in a way that few modern filmmakers have been been to do. It's also probably NSFW.

Bear with me. Spring is just around the corner. 

More, anon.
Prospro

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Dream, dream, dream...

I don't know when my zombie fascination started. Probably with George Romero's 1978 masterpiece, Dawn of the Dead. The nightmares didn't start until much later, though.

The first one I remember distinctly was incorporated into my screenplay Army of the Dead, though I had the dream at least 10 years before I even started writing screenplays. Of course, the screenplay I am working on now was almost entirely inspired by a zombie nightmare. 

And last night, after watching the season finale of "The Walking Dead," I had a doozy, in which Uncle P's own mother was a cheek-less zombie, though she wasn't fully aware that she was a zombie. She kept asking, "I'm supposed to eat people? No, that can't be right." The dream eventually got silly, involving a castle about to be flooded to destruction, Dear D and a Katy Perry zombie that just couldn't be put down, even after her head had been bashed to bits with a chrome tire-iron...

Of course, much of that can be directly related to "TS-19," but most of it was just completely off the wall, as most of my dreams (nightmares or not) are. Occasionally, a dream or nightmare is so vivid it ends up being a full screenplay, as with Comatose Joe and my current project, though usually only certain elements make their way into my writing, as in Chimera and The Cow Says: Moo! More often than not, my dreams are so bizarre, they defy interpretation. Case in point - I recently dreamt that I was part of a theatrical production which was reproduced by another race of beings in a dimension which vibrated on a different frequency than ours. And that's all I can tell you about it without you thinking I'm completely insane (which no doubt, many of you already think, anyway). 

I keep a dream journal on my nightstand, and write down the significant details of dreams I think my have potential commercial value, but save the weirdest ones to share with friends and family (none of whom are surprised those dreams' weirdness). I suggest that you do as well. You have no idea when your subconscious might come up with a brilliant idea or two...

Pleasant dreams...

More, anon.
Prospero

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