Credits When Credits Are Due

Liz, Ebert, and Roper critique:

SCENE: A perfect autumn day where long shadows from tall trees are cast onto the pavement. A perfect blue sky. Around 3:30 in the afternoon.

I dreamt that I was in the old 'hood, walking down the street where I lived as a kid. I was the person I am now but the neighborhood was imaculant and beautiful- very well kept and, from all visual accounts, THE neighborhood to live in. I was joined in this stroll by someone who was familiar to me, but I could not place who she was. We were talking about who used to live where, who lives there now, and about the neighborhood in general. I was at peace and had that happy warm-fuzzy that comes from nostalgia being good. She lived in the neighborhood now but had apparently also lived there when I was a kid. From the dream I got a sense that we had been friends or at least schoolmates when we were younger; some level of acquaintance.

I asked her what her name was in a very nice way. I was comfortable with her. She was a good conversationalist. She was interesting and knowledgeable. I said something like, "You'll have to forgive me for not remembering this, but what is your name again?" And she looked at me- almost bored with the question- and said, "I'm going by an alias now and that it Mimi (something or other)." I said, "An ALIAS? Why? What's happened in your life where you need an alias?" She was very nonchalant like EVERYONE had an alias and I was like, so 1993 for not knowing this. I got over being insulted and asked again for her name; no longer interested in why she changed it, just trying to fit her into her proper place in my past.

Flippantly, she again refused.

Of course, I proceed to get aggravated with this "old pal". You know that extra sense you have in dreams? The one that feeds you, direct line, to the heart of the matter; the inside scoop? I KNEW she had no reason to withhold this information from me. There was absolutely no reason she could not tell me what her real name was- she was simply electing not to do so.

In my dream the frustration is really starting to rise. I KNOW who this woman is, but I cannot pull up her name and I am getting pissed off about it! I'm now obsessed with knowing who she is. She's not giving in. She's even told me that there is no reason for me not to know her name, she just doesn't want to tell me. Nothing matters more than figuring out who this person is and all she can reply with is, "You know, whatever."

I'm combobulated and then the dream ends... but not as in "ends". The dream ends with credits rolling up the screen like in a movie. The whore who wouldn't tell me her name is Elisabeth Shue.

Now, WHY would my brain put me through all of this if, at the end of the dream, it was going to reveal the secret? And, if I'm going to dream about a "star", why can't it be Luke Wilson or George Clooney? Why Elisabeth Shue for Christ's sake?

Some people have to worry about getting fucked over by others. I have to worry about getting fucked over by my self.