I had sort of promised myself to stop typing in my blog until I got my stitches out. But last night I had another strange dream about the making of "Frankenstein Thumb."
My hand was throbbing and pulsing like a Bee Gees album and so I gobbled down some Vicodin and crashed out. And though I always thought Vanilla Coke was a good muse, Vicodin might even be better.
In this dream, I was an actor in the movie "Frankenstein Thumb." Something had happened to my thumb--it was implanted with a microchip, or it was a demon thumb, or something--and I was being interrogated by some mysterious people, being played by filmmakers I know from Microcinema Fest. And, curiouser still, I was being interrogated on the stage at Cutting Hall in sunny Palatine, Illinois, where the festival plays.
The fact that these people were mysterious was denoted by the fact that they were all holding flashlights under their chins, giving them Bela Lugosi shadows. I guess now even my muse is used to thinking low-budget.
Any interpretations of this dream are welcome. Until later, give me a shout at johnoakdalton@hotmail.com.
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