I had another dream last night about the interview. I sat
down on this steel bench across from whom I thought was Evel Knievel. I start to
ask the questions on my note-pad but when I look down at its white, lined
surface there is nothing there but a blank void.
You’d think at this point it was just your average stress
dream: Can’t think of the questions; you're in your underwear; you're late for work;
being chased by a bear; yaddah yaddah… but it’s become so much more convoluted.
As I stared dumbfounded at the white expanse of my note-pad,
trying desperately to think of just one question to ask, the figure previously
thought of as Evel began to shift in its seat. Taking a closer look, I realized
that it was not Evel, but rather a person wearing a veil with Evel’s face on
it. Who was underneath? As I reached towards the veil, a hand reached out
behind it towards my face. It appeared to be a woman’s hand.
Suddenly my mouth was full of questions flying off my tongue
like Evel himself soaring off a ramp. But with each question I asked, this
veiled woman only echoed back with a stranger question.
‘What do you dream about, Evel?
You
really want to be Knievel?
What’s your proudest moment Bobby?
How
can you make a living from some reckless hobby?
What was your family’s response to your career?
Is
it really worth the soulless cheer?’
What do you want people to remember you by?
Do
you even care that I might watch you die?...”
This went on for several rounds and each time I asked a
question I was pulled closer and closer to the figure. Eventually I was close
enough to reach the veil and rip it off.
And when I did, behind the veil was some weird collage of
all of Evel’s past lovers. But the face had Evel’s steely eyes with my mouth
yelling ferociously “What is it of your business?! You're just like all the other
yuppie reporters! All you wanna hear about is fame and money and you don’t give
a single damn about the truth! You want a lie! You want a lie! You are a lie!”
And then I woke
up, wobbled a little bit, and stared myself dead in the eyes. At some point in
the middle of that dream I had wandered into my bathroom and begun screaming
into my mirror. I think this project is driving me a little mad. I think Evel
was a little mad. I think Evel is driving me a little mad…
Either way, it seams I’ve finally departed from my sanity.
I’ve truthfully taken off from my own ramp on this one. I’m flying now –whether
that’s a good or a bad thing- and I just hope I land in one piece.
http://www.ftfworks.org/
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