Last night I read an excellent essay on the movies Lost Highway and Mulholland Drive. These are two of my favorite movies, and it was great to read such an in-depth exposition on all the cinematic elements each scene contains. It reminded me how much I love those movies, and David Lynch movies in general.
But it also reminded me of some of the really disturbing images used in those movies. Suffice it to say, it creeped me out a bit, especially considering that it was dark outside and I'm in a largely empty house. Typical movie stuff.
Not surprisingly, when I went to sleep, the surreal David Lynch imagery followed me into my dreams. To complicate things further, I went hypoglycemic in my sleep and wasn't able to wake up to treat it. If you didn't already know this, diabetics often have strange nightmares when they're hypoglycemic in their sleep (much like a fever dream). In my case, I was driving a car along a large, barren segment of freeway on a sunny day. The surrounding area alluded to the Salt Lake City area, however, I couldn't really see the surrounding area because there were tall concrete barriers on either side of the road. The final touch on the environmental backdrop is that this particular patch of freeway is a recurring dream setting of mine.
So on I drove, not a car in sight, until eventually two cars pass me. The first was an early-90s white sedan of some kind, driving normally and only slightly faster than I. The second was a new maroon luxury SUV, similar to one I saw in real life a day or two ago. The SUV was driving much faster and more aggressively. As it passed me, it immediately changed lanes, almost cutting me off, and then hit the brakes as it came up behind the white sedan. I decelerated, but could no longer see in front of me very well. In the meantime, more traffic was coming up behind me.
We all came to some debris on the road just then. I had decelerated enough to be able to see it and steer clear. The SUV had no such luck, and began to swerve and dodge until it finally lost control. Cars began to collide, but I was able to act quickly, and I left the collision behind. Looking over, I noticed a young Phil Collins (yep, that Phil Collins) driving a convertible. People in passing vehicles would see him and wave excitedly. Eventually, he pulled over and started signing autographs. He was friendly and accommodating to his fans, but he was visibly uncomfortable with the fact that people were acting as though they knew him. They didn't know him. They were strangers to him.
At this point, I woke up, realizing that I had been hypoglycemic and that it was now too late; I was hyperglycemic now. (When a diabetic fails to treat hypoglycemia, the liver fills the bloodstream with large amounts of glucose as a defense mechanism. This fact often leads to the large pendulum-swings of poorly managed diabetes.) It was three o'clock in the morning and hot outside. I grumbled, turned over, and went back to sleep.