Make Mine Mike

I dream of zombies.

Seeing so many of those horror films, it’s not surprising. My fascination becomes my nightmare. But these dreams don’t scare me. I’m used to the undead sleepwalking through my unconscious. But what does it all mean, man? Well, with a little self-psychoanalysis, even a reanimated corpse can tell you a lot about yourself.

The other night I was fighting off the zombies as usual, but that time I got bitten. Soon I would become one of them. But even as my sleeping brain was becoming reduced to cannabalistic savagery, at the same time I was testing out an idea for a horror screenplay I might write when awake. I had been trying to come up with an original take on the genre, and perhaps telling the story from the undead’s point-of-view would be interesting. I seemed to be aware of what was happening -- still myself, but now with a primal need to attack the living.

My first victim was Curtis, the music supervisor at my job, and I became him. I think that I was in fact the personification of the zombifying virus -- a dubious original take on the genre, but nevertheless, now my identity was transferred to someone new.

And Curt's cool. He used his recent work hiatus to go to Australia and tour with his band which has a major following Down Under. He regaled us with stories about jamming on the drums in the outback, undoubtedly stealing away babes like he was a dingo. But even on a regular day, while many of us in post-production (like myself) are spewing out jokes that are hit-or-miss, Curtis is the guy who doesn't say much in the edit bays, but when he does, it's always friggin' hysterical. I really admired his near-perfect zinger percentage.

And now I was him... in zombie form. Of all the rotting corpses around, I was the baddest. It was my world, and everyone else was just living dead in it.

The next person I attacked was also a musician, somewhat. It was Dominic Moynahan, or more specifically, Charlie, the character in "Lost" who played in a one-hit-wonder band. While I give Moynahan props for his fine performance, both on TV and in hooking up with hottie Evangelyne Lilly... his alter ego (and now mine) was a schmuck. In my dream I suddenly embodied an insecure loser drug addict who's become so dull, even the writers of the show seemed to have gotten bored of him. And that's when I woke up.

So what did I learn from all this? First of all, to be myself and not wish I was in anyone's else's shoes, especially not a dude in a rock band. Second, that my script idea needed a lot of work. And finally, since "Lost" will be back on the air soon, I should stop filling my TV viewing time with stupid zombie movies.