The Skeleton Key

A brief foray into my subconscious mind...

Had a dream the other night that I offered to help Johnny Depp (I must've seen him in a movie that day) write a screenplay he had thought up.

It was a horror movie called The Skeleton Key (no, haven't seen the movie with that same title). It was one of those grainy, monochromatic, washed-out treatments -- low lights, lots of greys. The idea was that it was about a frustrated 19th century composer. While during the day he was a happy family man, his nights were horrifying. He was forced -- through the orders of some horrid fellow -- to totter off to an empty, sealed up room every night while his family slept. Only here was he allowed to compose -- locked up. But as his work improved and he created more and more, he was forced to spend more time in this stale, dim room... dragging himself out every morning, exhausted and half mad.

Eventually he went completely off the deep end -- ironically, only when he was a drooling, gibbering suicide case did he realize that no one forced him into the room. He had fabricated a twisted mentor... and all of his agony and subsequent insanity was self-inflicted.

It was sort of a dream-within-a-dream, because then Johnny Depp told me that while the story was fine, it was too dark and he wanted a happy ending. Then he tried killing me with numerous sharp knives.

The end.

When I told Chris about the dream after I woke up, he simple shook his head and said, "You're crazy."