Tell a story in 15 seconds

YESTERDAY some of my film hobby friends and I shot a 15 second short for the Tribeca film festival contest. Check it out. Some of the ones already up there are pretty decent and the crappy ones.. well you've only wasted 15 seconds looking at it. It is amazing what a challenge it is to get a story into that short time. We came up with a few ideas, but the one we settled on was a simple boy-meets-girl story. Simple is good. It was difficult to get more than 5 shots crammed into that 15 seconds. The editing is mostly done, save maybe for some sound changes. Once it's finished, I may try to post it up here.

A bag of dreams

IN another post about dreams, I explore, through a personal experience, a theory about dream memory. As I said last post, I do not really remember my dreams. I might be able to tell you that I had one last night but I would not be able to tell you one detail from it. I would be inclined to say that I don't remember my dreams. But one experience I had a few years ago changed my thoughts on the matter. Now I say that while I can't recall my dreams, I do remember them.

It was after a nice afternoon nap several years ago that I had one of the top ten experiences in my life thus far. I was still groggy from sleep and the images of the dream I had just been having were still in front of me though they were fading away. I closed my eyes and tried to remember the dream. Suddenly a flood of images came to my mind. I recognized them immediately as images from dreams I'd had in the past some of them probably 7-10 years ago. The memories were not complete, just small clips from these dreams but the quantity was huge. My mind started linking them together geographically like while dreaming you might flow from one scene to the next without a real change of location. I moved from sci-fi adventures to smaller personal stories and back within seconds. It was an amazingly emotional experience. I felt charged up and I figuratively walked on air for the rest of the day. I wondered if this is what a person recovering from amnesia feels like. It was like getting a large portion of my life back; my dream life. Now I can't remember all the dreams that came back to me that day, but I can remember some of them. I haven't had an experience like that since then and I still can't recall the majority of my dreams.

I have a theory that explains why this may have happened. When we see something noteworthy or that affects us emotionally, we can remember it, having seeing it only once. When we experience something similar to what we experienced around the event, it calls the memory of the event to mind. This trigger stimuli is usually an object, smell or small clip of dialogue. With dreams however (unless you have very realistic dreams) there is a disconnect between your real life and your dream life. It is therefore very rare that you experience things the same way you experience them in a dream. Locations and events in dreams are not based on the reality that you live in, so finding trigger stimuli is very unusual.

When remembering, for example, someone you knew in highschool, you naturally explore other nearby memories of people and events you knew in highschool. It is developing theory that memories are stored in our brains in very specific locations. I suggest that when we activate those sections of our brains, we also stimulate those parts of the brain that are very nearby. Parts of the brain that hold other related memories. When I remembered one dream, maybe I stimulated other nearby parts of my brain which held other dream memories. It's my theory that dreams are held all together in a section of our brains which is closed off like a drawstring marble bag. If you can get your consciousness to get through the tiny opening at the top, you have access to all the marbles. The act of falling asleep and waking up is just like opening and closing up the bag. Sometimes a marble falls out, once I got lucky and dumped the whole bag out at once, but for the most part, I don't have access to my own bag of dreams. It swallows them up one at a time. Maybe one day it will be too full and have to be emptied again.

In the night sky

RARELY do I remember my dreams. On the occasions I do, it's usually due to sleeping in a new or uncomfortable place. I had one this morning that I remembered, so I'm posting about it. There was some semblance of a plot but what stuck out to me the most were three distinct images. All of huge things in the sky.

The first was a giant kite. I say kite because it was a lightweight structure held up by the wind but that is really where the similarities end. It seemed to be as large as a skyscraper and fairly rotund. It was night time and the kite was positioned over the ocean or a lake. The entire thing was lit with neon lights and had the appearance of something between a Chinese dragon and a Chinese lantern. It was many concentric cylinders that hung at different levels and the lighting was all reds, purples and pinks. The whole thing gave me an impression of some colossal jellyfish with its neon luminescence reflecting off the waters. I watched as the breeze gave out and the whole thing collapsed into the water.

The second was of a volcanic planetoid hovering just behind the full moon. It was about three times larger in diameter than the moon and its black surface was covered with visible cracks flowing with Lava. The surface of the planetoid seemed to be constantly bombarded with meteors whose presence was seen as impacts, visible as white cloud rings on the surface. Often in dreams you have information about things or events that you just inexplicably know. I knew that the meteors were an act of war upon this object and perhaps the only thing keeping it from crashing into the earth. Someone informed me that it is called Devils Gate and though it has always been there behind the moon, not many people could see it. It was at once beautiful in its spectacle and ominous in its intent.

The third was called the City of Heaven. It was a huge flying island that appeared bringing morning with it. Probably on the order of 30 square miles. It was covered with buildings made from white marble. The architecture was vaguely roman with its arches and open (glass-free) windows. The upper half was like a disc raised in the center. The buildings became increasingly large and ornate as they approached the center peak of the island. The effect was that of a fortress city like Minas Tirith from the Lord of the Rings but even larger and of course, flying. The lower half (the upside down half) was larger and brought to mind the structure of an iceberg. It too had buildings on it, built appropriately into the mass of the island and right side up (consistent with gravity). I can't think of much else to describe it though the feeling I had looking at it was awe and heartache. I knew that I couldn't live on the island. At least not yet.

The spiritual labels on the last two were interesting to me, but I have no idea what they could mean. Biblically dreams were used several times by God to deliver messages to his servants. I believe that dreams can be a potent means for spiritual revelation for some, but I am hesitant to look too much into my own.

To me, dreams are an endlessly fascinating subject. I am envious of people who regularly remember their dreams. It seems to happen to me very rarely. There is another dream experience I had a few years ago I'd like to share. I'll save it till the next post.

This was going to be a post about...

PHILOSOPHICAL ramblings regarding the nature of love. I've been mulling over some theories and discussions about love recently. I've been taught about the four "loves" from the Greek language but this is a different take on the subject. Though I don't have the time to write an essay and I doubt you (reader) would have the patience to read such a post, thus it will have to wait until another time.

This past week, I did have the opportunity to revive an old hobby: Origami. I came across a cool model for a rose and I folded it out of some neat textured paper I found at the craft store. I hope to put a picture of it up soon. It turned out really beautiful. I'll probably end up giving it to my mom.

*EDIT*
Here is a picture of the rose.

On snot rockets and their snares

YOU know the feeling. You tripped, bonked your head, said a word that wasn't a word, split your pants, or any other potentially embarrasing thing. A brief moment of panic sets in, your brain automatically goes into "damage control" mode. "Who saw it?" "How much did they see?" "Did they recognise what actually happened?" "Should I laugh it off or pretend it didn't happen?" Depending on who you are around, of course, dramatically changes the situation. Some friends can be particularly unforgiving.

Whether or not you think it's disgusting, it's a fact that the snot rocket, when properly executed, is both more efficient and more sanitary than the prolific loogie. The practitioner makes a clean transferal of nasal mucous from nose to ground without alarming noises or undue taxation on the sinuses. This feat is accomplished following three simple steps.

1) Assess the viscosity: This is a very important step and one that is often overlooked by the novice. Snot rockets are governed by the mechanics of fluid dynamics, and viscosity plays a huge role in how a mucous corpuscle exits the nasal chamber. Trajectory and the force put behind the globular mass are dependent on correct assesment of the viscosity. Nasal mucous can run from the wintery red-nosed variety (very low viscosity) to the sludgey sickly flu variety (highly viscous). When deciding to snot rocket, this step will often make or break your success.

2) Secure the exit path: This step is very simple. Plug the nostril which is not going to be used. Your don't want both barrels of your snot loaded shotgun going off at once, this results in a nasty mess.

3) Aim, Fire: Take a deep breath, tilt back your head, make sure of your trajectory, and blow that sucker outta there.

At the beginning, expect to make mistakes. Try practicing when you are alone and away from prying eyes. It takes a little time to get down, but once you master it, the rewards are worth every snot encrusted upper lip it took to get there.

I have been performing the snot rocket manuver for many years now. I am what some refer to as a seasoned professional. I can, with a little concentration, exit even the most difficult mucous globs with little to no residual face wiping necessary. I was thrown for a loop recently however, not taking into account my new facial hair style. My new (and particularly visable) protruding mustache gets in the way of my customary exit trajectory and the result is an unflattering mucoustache. I usually perform this manuver so quickly that the casual observer will think that I am simply spitting on the ground and not think anything of it. In this instance however, I had what is known as a dangler. The dreaded dangler, much like a possum, grabs a hold of a support with the bulk of its undesirable mass swinging freely below. It took me a moment to realize what had happened. That moment was long enough for my mistake to be spotted and recognized. As a bachelor with bachelor friends, my humor often tends toward the gross and sometimes vulgar. But when my physical appearance causes one of my friends to be genuinely disgusted, it is a blow to my ego. I was rightly embarrassed and I'm sure that in the future, I will be able to avoid such mistakes. I am still a strong advocate of the snot rocket, but know that it is not a skill without peril. Take heed of my warnings and use the snot rocket, but use it with caution.