So my subconcious has a real penchant for the ambiance of Philip K Dick or something, because I continue this strange series of cold, dark, apocalyptic dreams. Except Paul Bettany was in this one, as were my parents. But mainly Paul Bettany being disarmingly attractive and awesome.
Firstly, I think my subconcious was trying to pin down an atmosphere and time period throughout the dream, because it seemed to alter slightly from point to point. It started out a bit like a behind the times Czech village, and everyone dressed somewhat oldfashionedly, but it was still now, as in we all had cars and seemed to talk mostly normal. And in English. Anyway, everyone from the area had kind of gathered in the same place. There were some political discussions happening and alot of trials had been going on in reference to the government. In the midst of all that, there had been some kind of cruxifiction, literally. Some citizens had dragged this Christ figure into this nearby chapel and blamed all of the tummult on him, and apparently got so frenzied about it they had him killed right there in the church in a way brutal manner. I did not see it happen, but word somehow got to me. Not that many people seemed to care all that much about it, though, being upset with the bigger scheme of things. I went to the chapel to find mourners for the crucified fellow there. We were all wearing black. I hadn't known him but I was of course saddened and horrified that all this had happened. Apparently the murder had been pretty violent because there was blood in spatters all around the interior of the chapel. One of the few cleaners was Paul Bettany, looking all sickly and whatnot and wearing this big black cloak. I felt like I knew him (probably because he was Paul Bettany-- except of course he wasn't the movie star paul bettany, he was paul bettany playing this fellow), so I started talking to him and it turns out he was the one that was ordered to kill the Jesus guy. I don't think he was all there to begin with, but the murder had made him all guilty and crazy and he was frantically cleaning up the patches of blood. at one point he started crying and I told him to go away and I'd make sure it was all clean and he ran off.
Paul in his cloak-y, post-Jesus slaying get up. Actually that part of my dream seemed pretty well-rooted in the atmosphere of what I remember of The Reckoning. Except thank heaven Willem Dafoe wasn't there (though technically he was Jesus in The Last Temptation. Weird little tie-in, there). Also, how hilarious is Willem in this picture? He looks like he's about to whine about not getting any cookies.
Once we had cleaned everything there was some kind of a makeshift memorial service for the dead guy, and sat in to listen. This would have been a good movie scene but I can't remember gleaning any information or emotion from whatever happened in there. After that I left the chapel to go join my parents. Whatever this government issue trial thing was, it was a big attraction, and apparently we had family come from out of town to be around for it. Thus, we had many cars, trucks, and even a black limo for all this extra family. Some kind of political decision had been made around the time that I reappeared in the parking lot, and everyone who wasn't going to join in a riot was getting in their cars to go. Then everything got all crazy and violent, and the riot started to pose a threat to my family (who had also very stupidly brought my little sister along). Then Paul Bettany came back, all enraged and protective in this really awesome WHITE suit and pistol, and the crowd shrank back and left my family's car alone. I jumped out at this point and hugged Paul goodbye, and he gave me this crushingly wonderfully sad hug. It was really quite romantic in a tragic, weird way.
Paul in his post redemption get up. Actually he did look quite a bit like this and everything, except the suit was damn, 1940's and WHITE.
I think I almost came out of the dream at this point, but wielded myself back to sleep in hopes of bumping into the guy again, ha. But of course he was dead, sacrificing himself for my family and trying to expunge the guilt of the murder.
So my parents and I then arrived back at home with all of our long, black cars. And ringo, my geo metro was there, too. The house was a strange culmination of houses I know and houses from other dreams. The front entry way was especially like that of my now deceased third cousin (or something) who lived in Paso Robles. I gave her a shadow box once, I had made a scene of swans on a pond out of that crayola foam clay, arranged it in a small open box, and stretched that colorful, sticky cyran wrap over the front of it. I was obsessed with that cyran wrap. Anyway, the house looked like hers, kind of. I was depressed to be there. My dad and mother were exaggerated versions of their real-life selves-- my father in his own little world, not listening to anything and not interpreting a single thing properly, my mother desperately unhappy (and apparently having an affair with someone that was at the rally. or thinking about it. this is the result of reading The Awakening, probably). A peculiar storm had been brewing throughout the dream, and now it was coloring the sky in spooky ways. Dad did not notice. Our extended family left, or some of them did. My little sister was three, and small and cute, and dressed... like a tiny mime, complete with striped sweater and french beret. She was not terribly bothered by anything. My parents mumbled discussions with themselves while I looked out our huge window at the cars on the street until suddenly-- the cars started to roll backwards, all of them. A jarringly eerie, cinematic image if ever i saw one. Top that, Chris Nolan. So down the hill the cars are going, and I freak out and run outside. Ringo is among the black cars, rolling slowly to the bottom of the steep hill. I get some huge strip of fabric, wrap it around the car, and haul the thing back up the hill all by my own self (ah, ringo). My father has meanwhile followed all of the other huge black cars to the bottom of the hill, trying to save them by himself. My mother, having had quite enough, was putting Dory the mime in our hovercar (which had appeared magically and did NOT roll down the hill). I had a feeling she was going to be gone for a long time, so I ran up to her and demanded an explanation. She said she didn't really have any answers for me, and I went bonkers. "You don't get to leave me!" I said, or something like. "I am a graduate! People are not allowed to leave ME anymore, I LEAVE THEM!!" Perhaps the only part of the dream that requires absolutely no interpretation. Aside from my attraction to Paul Bettany. Anyway, mom finally says something like "well, I was going to go for good, but I'm not sure now. He (dude she was having an affair with) wrote me this letter (she presents me with a manilla envelope), and it's wise. I just don't know, now." But she got in the car with Mime Jr and floated away. Dad came back from the car chasing because the storm had gotten heavy and scary. We sad inside, staring out the back window at a shed we apparently had in our backyard. "Don't worry!" Dad kept saying "The shed will be fine! Nice and sturdy," like he had no idea or concern about anything that had been conspiring over this whole maddening day. I excused myself and went into our (pink...) bathroom and took out the manilla envelope to read this big life-altering letter. Then, suddenly, I was afraid.
Then I woke up.
ps, annnnnd the dude that works at coffee bean just totally saw me scanning attractive paul bettany pictures. embarrassing.