Geeky Cinephile Musings…
I don't pontificate, I blather.

Shhhhhhh, Shhhhhh, quiet now….

Late last night

Or very early this morning

I had a dream that I was walking with Werner Herzog.

We were in Romania.  Werner was wearing a dark, blood-red puffa jacket, hood up and framing his face.  I don’t know what I was wearing.  We were joined by my friend, Courtenay, who in real life lives in Maine, but in this dream she was inexplicably with us on our journey.

It was night-time, and we’d already walked 15 miles, deep into the woods.  Starlight shone through witch-hand branches, and the path beneath our feet (for there WAS a path!) was barely visible, a pale shimmer of dirt leading ever onward in the darkness.  Werner knew every inch of these forests.  He muttered that we’d better press on, and quickly, to escape the oncoming storm.

The squall was not yet upon us, nor could we see any evidence of it, but the air was heavy and dank, and smelled of ozone.  I flitted ahead, quickly down the path, and rounded a sharp curve to the left after a short downslope.  There, I saw a small house.  Typical for a fairy tale–thached roof, huge, oaken door.  I entered before my friends, who were still some fifty yards behind me, and came across a boy.  He was fair-haired, with angular features, and no obvious eye color.  He seemed both excited to see me and curiously unperturbed that I was there, a stranger in the night.  He only spoke Romanian, and I only speak English, French, and some Spanish; however, Romanian being a Latin-based language, I was able to get the gist and will “translate” it here:

“Have you ever seen Harry Potter?”

I held up four fingers and tried to explain that I’d seen each film in the series four times, at least, especially Prisoner of Azkaban.  He seemed to understand, as his eyes widened and rolled, as if to say, “Wow, you’re a bit off!”  Now came Werner, and shortly afterwards, Courtenay.

“She iz scad ahf zuh la-yeet-ning,” Werner intoned.

“Well, dude, LOOK at it out there!” Courtenay gestured.  And I looked, turning behind me to a small window looking out over the other direction, the opposite from where we came, and saw zig-zags of white beginning to crack across the sky.  The roar of the rain enveloped us, and our clothes immediately felt wet to the touch, although we were sheltered.  Suddenly, the entire wall of the cottage began to totter and tilt! It creaked and groaned, then fell very lightly, without much ado, certainly not causing any damage to us, who were right in its path.  I turned to Courtenay.

“We should get underneath this.  It’ll protect us.”

She looked dubious, but began to help me lift the wall.  Werner looked on, stony-faced, unhelping.  The boy looked concerned, but didn’t help either.

I buried myself and Courtenay beneath the damp mud and wood and waited, hearing the terrible crashes just over our heads, the smell of moist earth filling our noses, our mouths.  I saw a large, dark shadow of a tree branch.

And then I woke up.

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One Response to “Shhhhhhh, Shhhhhh, quiet now….”

  1. That was a very vivid dream…


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