Desire and Reverie

       by Fred Lewis

                                                             BLACK:

                                                        VOICE OVER:

                           MAN/WOMAN
                 I live to have something to
                 outlive. By confiding these remembrances
                 to paper...to film...tape...to the
                 computer, I am accomplishing the most
                 important act of my life. I was
                 predestined to memory.

                                                     UP FROM BLACK:

       MAN/WOMAN. LIVING ENVIRONMENT. INTERIOR. DAY.

       The Man/Woman is in bed.

       The sound of the telephone ringing.

       At first a distant ringing and then louder and louder.

       MAN/WOMAN BOLTS UPRIGHT FROM BED, FACING US.

       Tight shot of Man/Womans' face.
       Scattered about the living environment are esoteric,
       'fringe' books and magazine, fanzines, 16mm camera and
       projector, video camera and VCR, typewriter, tape recorders,
       strange hand made electronic contraptions, CD players, DVD,
       turntables and albums scattered about.

       A computer is on the drawing desk where the MAN/WOMAN is
       seated.

       Man/Woman is drawing with a pen and inks.

       People in erotic poses flow from the pen.

       Scattered about the living environment are many erotic

       drawings - from people self pleasuring themselves to couples

       in varied sexual positions.

       Pinned to the wall in front of his desk are drawings for

       department store advertisements.

       On the table are two uncashed checks from The All Advertising

       Agency - "for illustrations" written at the bottom of the
       checks.

       The MAIN CHARACTER has no name and is dressed
       completely in grays.

       The television is on as wallpaper, an old movie playing.

       The radio is tuned to a talk show.

       The record player and CD machine are playing different types
       of sound art pieces.

       Rap / r&b/ alternative music also emanates from reel to reel
       and cassette tape recorder.

       They all intermingle, the different elements fusing, swirling
       and ebbing as he draws.

       The Main Character-Man/Woman-taps the keyboard, traversing
       the electronic highway with

       his computer as he's drawing.

       LIVING ENVIRONMENT. INTERIOR. MID AFTERNOON.

       The phone is ringing.

       The answering machine answers. The Man/Woman continues the
       pen and ink erotic sketches.

       ANSWERING

                           MACHINE
                     (From 'Cabinet of Caligari')
                     (yelling) "Now! Tell me now!"

                           VOICE #1
                 You there? Are you there? (Pause). I've
                 got to have those illustrations by
                 yesterday. Call me.

       Man/Woman continues to draw.

       The Phone rings again.

       The answering machine answers the phone again. M/W continues
       drawing.

       ANSWERING

                           MACHINE
                 "Now. Tell me now."

                           SECOND VOICE
                 I've got anther audition for you. It's an
                 indie film. Are you there? I need to know
                 right away. Come on, pick up - pick up if
                 you're there.

                           MAN/WOMAN
                     (Clicks phone speaker button
                      with remote)
                 I'm here.
                     (pause)
                 Yes. I'll be there tomorrow
                     (pause)
                 Yes. I'm memorizing the other part.
                     (pause)
                 Work's an outmoded concept.
                     (pause).
                 What do I mean by that? I mean, don't be
                 a worker bee - a drone - do what you
                 enjoy.

       As M/W is speaking, he/she roams around the living quarters -

       turning on another electronic piece of equipment -

       changing tapes - changing television channels.

                           MAN/WOMAN
                 Soon there'll only be one industry -
                 entertainment. The
                 entertainers and the entertained.
                 Talk later.

       The M/W walks into the bathroom. She/He looks into the
       mirror.

       From behind the M/W, looking into the mirror

       We see M/W's face looking straight at us.

                           M/W
                 (Voice Over-thinking) Is it a dream....a
                 reverie? Desire? A nightmare...so
                 surreal. Fever dreams...so real.
                     (M/W intently gazing into the
                      mirror - continue voice-over)
                 Four A.M....the time when patients in
                 hospitals let go... ...when they die -
                 blend into day from night. Months
                 later.....it seems more real than if it
                 were real.....or was it real? Did it
                 really happen?

       The M/W looks at the rest of the bathroom and other room from
       the mirror's reflection.

                           M/W (cont'd)
                     (Speaking aloud)
                 I know these people....know.....these
                 places.
                     (Voice Over - thinking)
                 Did it actually happen? Partially
                 happen? Blending into a dream,
                 encompassing parts of what actually
                 happened
                     (M/W Whispers aloud)
                 I know it happened. I know it.
                     (Voice-Over M/W )
                 Into a dreamlike gauze.

       M/W presses a button next to the mirror which is next to the
       toilet - the tape recorder rewinds.

                           M/W (cont'd)
                 In my mind, like a film reel - run it
                 forward - like some video I've seen
                 twenty times....over, over. Instant
                 rewind, and run it again...and
                 again...and again.
                 The images.....seeing....the
                 visuals....from every angle........
                 in color.............in black and white.

       M/W looks into the mirror, seeing the old black and white TV
       show fluttering in the TV screen.

                           M/W (cont'd)
                 But more real than when it happened...if
                 it happened. So many parts of what seemed
                 to happen did happen. The same images -
                 like a room of mirrors. Was it an
                 extension of what happened...or wishing
                 what happened? A magnification of
                 certain events into a more pleasing
                 remembrance? Tinted. Tinted with new hues
                 of color. Extended. What had happened
                 added in with what I'd wished had
                 happened.

       The Main Character, M/W, turns from the bathroom mirror, and
       walks into

       the central area of the living environment.

       M/W in Profile.

       M/W's full face as She/He walks into the central living
       quarters.

       The Face is reflected in the television set as the M/W

       walks around the living quarters.

       The clock is ticking.

       The clock face is reflected in the

       windows...in the drinking glass.

       Tight of overloaded electrical sockets.

       Quickly from one appliance / electromagnetic machine to

       another during M/W's voice-over.

                           M./W
                 Everything's perfect there...except...not
                 really. Not in perfect lawnsville. Coifed
                 in coifland. Outside, trim and tidy -
                 proper and perfect. But inside... in
                 their houses...the quicksand soul of the
                 fried dough people...sedated into the
                 program of the perfect family. Robot
                 automatons. The perfect osmosis. The
                 cathode ray message ejaculating into the
                 perfect sponge. The vibrating word
                 decapitating any cibachrome presence.
                 They sit in their memories like sitting
                 in a comfortable armchair. The
                 electromagnetic symphony lulls them to
                 sleep...into a free-fall trance of the
                 timid. The pacified. The masses backed
                 into the corner of manipulated pseudo
                 choices. An overload of information
                 sticking to them like fertile mold. The
                 inoculate tongue of the tattoo media
                 whispers to them through the pursed lips
                 of it's swollen ego.

                                                            CUT TO:

       LIVING ENVIRONMENT HALLWAY. INTERIOR.

       M/W walks down the steps and into the night M/W has a sketch
       pad and portable tape recorder.

                                                            CUT TO:

       NARROW STREETS. EXTERIOR. NIGHT.

       Rooftop looking down onto street and M/W.

       The M/W walks through the welcoming alternate hatching
       patterns of

       darkness and patterns of light from the windows of the
       buildings.

       The electric wires layered over and around the buildings like
       a spider web.

       Electronic Breathing.

       A low hum of information, technology, static, and media

       crisscrossing overhead. Constant...continual....simultaneous.

                                                      STREET LEVEL:

       STREETS AND ALLEYWAYS. EXTERIOR. NIGHT.

       M/W walks through narrow streets past old buildings, a
       church, a small iron fenced graveyard, a European looking
       square.

                           M/W
                     (Voice-Over)
                 It's bright at night. Ideas, activated.
                 It's like a world of sixties pop. As dark
                 as the light at the end of the tunnel.

       BUILDING. EXTERIOR. NIGHT.

       The M/W peeks through different windows of

       different buildings,

       drawing what The Main Character sees in the bedrooms,

       through each window,

       beautiful erotic drawings.

       - drawings similar to the ones we saw in the living

       environment -

       sketching faster and faster at each succeeding window.

                           M.C./MAIN

                           CHARACTER
                     (Voice-Over)
                 The electronic finger printers feed us,
                 PC us, plump us, swallow us whole. With
                 the night, I can evade their irrational
                 thought, jump their ambiguous black hole.
                     (M/W is taping the sounds as
                     well as sketching)
                 Amplified tension feels good. The gray
                 area has widened...hard to find the yes -
                 no. A generic overload. Business is a
                 misspelled anagram for corruption.
                 They can't see our minds but they want
                 what's in it. And what they don't want in
                 it they censor.
                 Censorship is American.

                           VOICE FROM BUILDING
                 Hey, stop peeping, you creep.

                           M/W
                 Mind your own business. Do you know
                 what's happening to you!?!

                                                          FADE OUT:

                                                         AND UP TO:

       M/W APARTMENT BUILDING. EXTERIOR. NEXT DAY.

       M/W leaves the apartment with the script and drawings for the
       department store.

                                                          OVERHEAD:

                                    ELECTRIC WIRES CRISS CROSSING

                                                             BELOW:

                                             TRAFFIC CRISS CROSSING.
                              SIGHTS AND SOUNDS OF THE HURRIED CITY.

       CAFE. INTERIOR. DAY.

       THE M/W sits at a table near the cafe's large picture window.

       Friends are with him.

       We do not see any of their faces

       except for The M/W's face.

       We do see the other peoples' hands, arms, legs, portions of
       their bodies, wisps of hair.

       Two women and a man are seated with The M/W.

                           M/W
                 Information isn't facts. Facts aren't
                 necessarily truth. You can't believe what
                 they're saying anymore. What you're
                 saying doesn't mean anything anymore.
                 It's like a great song used in a
                 television commercial. Your life's
                 dripping away. Everyday life is occluded.
                 Watching television is like watching the
                 Roman Circuses. Human misery is
                 entertainment for the masses.

                                             STILL SHOTS/SLOW MOTION

                                                       QUICK EDITS:

       Shots of machines/appliances in the cafe.

       T.V on the "blink".

       Radio blasting.

       Veins in the foreheads of some of the people at the table.

       Action in cafe happening faster and faster.

       Overloaded electrical wall socket.

       Uncontrolled electronic manipulative media peeps.

       LARGE WINDOW IN THE FRONT OF THE CAFE - LOOKING OUT INTO THE

       STREET.

       POV of The M/W.

       The name of the cafe SODIUM PENTOTHAL printed on the window -

                                                      (TRUTH SERUM)

                           M/W
                 At penetration speed the silent overload
                 saturates the mind, skewering it like a
                 serrated knife.....an autopsy of constant
                 criss crossed pixels.
                 Fractals buzzing like flies over shit.
                 The magnetic reverberations causing
                 culture clutter,
                 opening fissured viruses in the body.

       Clock On The Wall

                                          TICK TOCK TICKS

       POV of The M/W at the table

       looking out the window past - Sodium Pentothal -

       past the glass window, through the words

       to the hurried pedestrians

       walking by on the street

       bumping into each other.

       Two automobiles almost collide. One automobile swerves

       out of the way,

       hitting an electric pole in front of the

       SODIUM PENTOTHAL.INTERIOR.

       Outside, thru the window, we see the pole tilt just a bit.

       All the electronics in the cafe are chattering

       ....radio...television...double image on television.

                           M/W
                 Forces beyond our control seem to be
                 closing in. Tears, like shards of glass,
                 slicing at us. Backed up to a wall. At
                 some point, you have to speak up - or
                 there won't be a you to be a you.
                 Conformity at any cost...but their power
                 is not the only current. We are viewing a
                 new day. It's a world turned upside down
                 and inside out...as it should be. It's
                 time to speak up. People know inside
                 themselves when something is wrong.
                     (the electricity falters - the
                      machines are silent for a
                      moment - and then begin their
                      chatter again as the
                      electricity kicks in )
                 If they don't speak up for the oppressed
                 of the moment, they'll be the next
                 oppressed...the next minority. You'll be
                 the next. When you take a product off a
                 shelf, there's an empty space. And
                 another.
                 Nothing is there....until the shelf is
                 restocked with their own brand. That's
                 all there is. Only their brand.

       The M/W by accident or coincidence, knocks a cup of coffee
       all over the table.

       Spilled coffee reflects the window and the pole, tilting just
       another fraction, precarious.

       Tight shot of the empty cup as it's righted.

                           THE M/W
                 You don't have to buy into what they say.
                 Their way is not the only way. There are
                 many ways to the same destination. You
                 don't have to infringe on anyone - you
                 don't have to harm anyone. But more
                 important...or as important...stand up
                 for a situation...before there's no
                 ground to stand on. Information is
                 currency now. And they use it to get
                 ahead without you knowing about it. Yeah,
                 your friends, your co-workers...those you
                 know and those you don't know. Just be
                 aware. The cockroaches are licking the
                 food of the wounds. The termites of
                 reason are eating away at the structure,
                 causing a narcissistic dust to settle
                 over the contracted world.
                 Dreams are lying in days old water...
                 drenched...soggy....damp.
                 Memories get covered in mold. The future
                 is a holograph. It's not there until you
                 think about it...until you make it real.
                 My voice doesn't stop once the words are
                 spoken.....a continual history generates
                 through the universe.

       CAFE. EXTERIOR. DUSK.

       The Main Character leaves the cafe alone.

       The electrical pole

       falls to the ground, the wires crackling. The Cafe goes dark.

       STREETS. EXTERIOR. EARLY EVENING.

       The M/W walks the streets, intertwined with the simultaneous

       electronic breathing coursing over, under, and all around.

       The M/W WALKS UP A NARROW STREET.

                           M/W
                     (Voice Over)
                 A new sound is needed. A new electric
                 breathing. The noise is traveling on
                 modern signals over all the cities and
                 all the towns. The warning is there. It
                 started with a whisper. Hopefully they
                 can hear the static.

                                                      FADE TO BLACK

       (Just Sound)

       Radio stations are changing from one station to another...

       then.....continual static.

       Credits spoken on the radio - over the air -

       intermingled with static - as important as the "clear"

       signal~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

       ONE LONG CONTINUAL SOUND OF STATIC

                                         FADE TO COMPLETE SILENCE IN
                                                              BLACK