The Gay Detecting Douchebag Bus Driver

I don't know what's wrong with me these days: I can hardly remember any of my dreams. And the ones I do remember, get this, there are no celebrities in them. I can't even get, say, Brendan Fraser to star in my dreams these days. I suppose this may be my brain's way of telling me that my life is way too full at the moment for me to let random celebs take up my energy. But I am seriously not sure that that is a price I'm willing to price for living a full life.

Here's a dream that I somehow managed to remember in details (still no celebs, though, sadly): I was with my friend Laura somewhere in a Danish called Køge, and we decided to climb a near-by mountain. There are virtually no mountains in Denmark, so there isn't any truth to this, geographically. It was late afternoon and sort of dark and rainy, but we were determined to go anyway. It was a bothersome trip. Most of the time we were able to trek, but for some parts, we needed to crawl and climb our way up. When we finally reached the top, we sat down at some kind of café and started talking about various university papers we had written during our studies. For some reason I had my master thesis with me, so I took it out to show her. When I looked at the front page that the title of it was "The Henchman and the Landscape in Nature". This struck me as a horribly clumsy title (indeed it is not the title of my actual thesis), but I seemed to remember that it was a title I'd picked randomly a few minutes before deadline. I was sort of glad, however, to find that I had encarved tiny little words into the letters of the word "landscape": I didn't really remember doing that, but I knew that I must have done it in order to graphically emphasize a point in my thesis about the landscape of a traumatic event carrying a certain signifiance, like a secret code, to a second hand witness trying to gain access to said event (which is indeed an actual point in my thesis. Although I never actually incarved tiny words into any letters).

After a while, we wanted to head home, but it was getting dark outside now, we realised. If we started climbing down the mountain at this hour, chances were that we would get stuck somewhere half down the mountain in the dark. Somehow we were now in Salzburg, where they don't have the light Scandinavian summer nights that we have here.

Luckily, however, we realised that there was a bus going down the mountain that we could get on, and incredibly, the bus was supposed to depart from where we were situated in just one minute. Sure enough, after a few moments we saw the bus approaching - except it wouldn't stop when it saw us. Instead it went on a little, and then the bus driver shouted to us that we had been too late for the bus. We protested and followed him, but then he drove a little further before stopping and shouting at us some more. This repeated itself a few times before we were finally let in.

Half-way down the mountain, however, the bus driver suddenly stopped and left his seat. He walked into the aisle where he intended to perform what he called a "magic show". His trick, he said was this: He was capable of telling if any person he met was or straight, and he would like to demonstrate this on a few of us. Every single one of us found this offensive, and people protested, but the chauffeur insisted. For his show he picked two men, a woman (whom I somehow instinctly knew was a Lesbian) - and me. I told him that I didn't want to be in his show, but the driver said that if I didn't want to participate, I'd have to leave his bus and make my way down the mountain on foot. By then it was pitch dark outside, and there was really no way I'd be able to find my way down by myself, so I had no choice but to stick around and be a part of his stupid gay-dar show. I don't remember how things turned out with the show. I just remember intending to file a complaint to the bus company, demanding that the chauffeur be fired.

Sarah Jessica Parker and the Chocolate Figurines

I recently had a dream in which I was at the top floor of Illum, a Copenhagen department store. I had somehow got my hands on three chocolate figurines, like the ones children get for Easter. Except these figurines weren't Easter bunnies or anything like that. Instead they were made out to look like Thor, Siff, and Loke from Norse mythology. For some reason, I was devouring these chocolate figuring, with a ravenous appetite. All of a sudden, out of nowhere, a door opened and Sarah Jessica Parker stepped into the room. She was wearing a beautiful silver dress, Charleston-like, and her hair was short like it was in the fifth season of Sex and the City. Upon seeing me and my wild consumation of these chocolate figurines, she got this completely horrified look on her face, and rushed out of the same door that she'd entered Illum through.

That's all I remember from that dream.

"Interests", "Relationship Status". "Favourite Swedish Tenor"

I dreamed several different dreams last night. In one of them I was thinking about a Danish book called "Tusmørkebørn" and suddenly realised that it must be at least partly inspired by Swedish Astrid Lindgren's "Madicken", particularly in the depiction of the relationship between two young sisters. Apparently, my inner Master of Art in Comparative Literature never sleeps.

Later that night, I dreamed that I had just graduated from high school and decided to celebrate by taking a roadtrip up through Sweden. I had a friend with me at first, but then she went home, and I went on by myself, mostly hitch-hiking. After a while, however, I decided that I wanted to go home and I caught a train back to Malmö. At Malmö Station I tried to book a ticket for Copenhagen, only to find that I had apparently created a profile on the Malmö Station homepage back in 2002. Among other things, I had been asked to pick my "favourite Swedish tenor now living". There were six different Swedish tenors to choose between, and I had picked Niclas Björling. I've never even heard Niclas Björling, but in the dream I figured that I had probably picked him because I assumed that he was a grandchild or some other kind of relative to Jussi Björling.

There was also a box where I had to name the "Person I Would Want to Narrate My Life". I'd put down "Jonas" who was my boyfriend in 2002.

I can't remember much else from the dream, but I really appreciate the lengths that my dream brain will apparently go to in order to squeeze random cultural trivia into my dream plots!

I would also like to point out that there were no celebrities in this particular dream. Unless you count Niclas Björling, who actually does exist, but I think that's a bit of a stretch.

Charles Widmore's Escalators

Last night I dreamed that I was watching Lost season 5. I don't remember much from the dream, except there was a scene in which Kate Austen had to go to Charles Widmore's office building in order to retrieve something or other. She had toddler Aaron with her, but she was being followed by someone, so she had to be really secretive. When I watch movies or television within a dream, it is however always really difficult for me to discern between myself and the protagonist I'm watching and at some point I became Kate, and I was in the office building myself. It was a futuristic type of building, very streamlined, and it had a lot of escalators. I had to go down a set of escalators at one point - except, as I realized when I was half-way down the set, instead of lowering you gently onto the below floor, like normal escalators do, all the escalators in this building ended mid-air, and you had to plummet about three metres after that.

The thought scared me, and for a moment I contemplated going back up the escalators, but I had to abort that idea, because as I glanced over my shoulder, I realized that an agent working for Benjamin Linus was right behind me, and he was out to get Aaron and me.

So instead I braced myself for the fall. "You can do this, Kate/Marie. You've jumped from the three-metre diving board before, and you were just fine." I thought to myself. And also "Damn that sadistic bastard Charles Widmore! Who else would have their fucking office building escalators end mid-air?"

And then I fell, and I know this sounds like the set-up for one of those dreams where you dream that you fall and then you wake up and can actually feel the sinking feeling in your stomach, but it wasn't. Instead, what happened in the dream was that I basically just fell down and landed on my ass. Yeah. Not a very dignified ending to that highly dramatic dream.

Ain't No Mountain High Enough (To Keep Joe from Getting to You)

Last night I dreamt that my co-blogger Martin and I had decided to climb the highest mountain in Greenland for some reason. I sadly don't remember a lot of details, other than the fact that it was an extremely dangerous journey, and it was very cold and dark. By the time we reached the top, we were both injured and exhausted, and Martin was very weak and ill, although I can't remember what ailed him exactly.

In any case, Joe from Family Guy came to our rescue in the nick of time! He was in his wheelchair and everything, but somehow that didn't stop him from climbing the mountain and he lifted up Martin and brought us both to safety.

Later in the dream, Tyne Daly broke into someone's home and pointed manically at the person who was living there. She just stood there, pointing, in the middle of the night. It was frightening.

In Which I Can't Remember What Movies Daniel Day Lewis Is In

I dreamed the other night that I had to impresse somebody - I don't remember whom - with my knowledge of Daniel Day Lewis movies. Except in the dream I couldn't think of a single movie with Daniel Day Lewis in it. I kept thinking that I'd thought of one, only to realize that I was confusing him with Jeremy Irons.

I don't remember what happened after that, but the dream is slightly reminiscent of the dream in which I was trying to impress Harrison Ford by mentioning Harrison Ford movies, but couldn't come up with any titles. And I just have to say how incredibly random I think it is that this has become a recurrent theme in my dreams. Other people, sane people, dream that they show up naked in school or that their teeth fall out. I dream about my own inability to name-drop movie titles.

The Art Salon

Last night I dreamt that I was going to attend some kind of art salon, and I had to prepare something for it - a song or a poetry recital or something. For some reason, I was going to recite a piece of dialogue from the 1990s TV series The X-Files. I have no idea why. I guess maybe it was somebody else's idea. I certainly wasn't very happy about it. I don't remember which dialogue it was, except for two lines: "The egg hatched..." "The egg hatched... and a hundred baby spiders came out...". Which isn't even a piece of dialogue from The X-Files. It's from Blade Runner. And thus I have now, indirectly, dreamt of Harrison Ford for the fourth time, since Martin and I started this blog.

Anyway, a friend of mine, Cat, from high school, was also to attend the salon. She was doing something way more fancy and appropriate than a piece of dialogue from a TV-series, but I don't remember what it was. I just remember that on the night of the salon, I met with her and I told her: "I can't do this. I cannot get up in front of a bunch of people at an art salon and recite a piece of dialogue from The X-Files. It will look ridiculous!" She looked at me very sympathetically and said: "You're right, you can't. Listen, why don't you just come up with some kind of excuse so that you can get out of it." I agreed with her that this would be the thing to do. I decided that I would claim to have a sore throat.

It was harder to get out of it, however, than I had thought. As it turned out it was a teacher of mine who had put me up to performing at the salon. And get this; my teacher was Beethoven. Yup. My teacher was Ludwig van Beethoven in the flesh. So I approached him in an attempt to get out of the concert, and I remember wondering if this was Beethoven before or after he went deaf. Because if it was after, that could make things even more difficult. Just in case, I decided to speak very loud. Except I couldn't remember the German term for "sore throat". So I just went: "HERR BEETHOVEN - ES TUT MIR RECHT LEID, ABER ICH HABE SCHMERZEN - HIER." and pointed to my throat before I contintued: "WÄRE ES MÖGLICH, DASS ICH HEUTE NACHT ZU HAUSE BLEIBEN KÖNNE?"
Alas, as it turned out, Beethoven thought of me as his favourite pupil - his protegé - and he was not about to let his prize student out of his art salon. I was going to have to participate, he said, and I got a bit of a creepy vibe from him, because he kept smiling and patting my cheek as he spoke.

So there really was no way out, and I showed up for the art salon. My friend Cat was there, but she was no longer my friend Cat - she was Pamela Sue Martin, the actress who played Fallon Carrington on Dynasty. A young version of actor Tom Hulce was there as well, sitting in the audience. He wasn't dressed up in his Amadeus attire, as one might expect. Instead he looked like himself in Animal House. At some point during the evening, he was fixed up with the best friend of the hostess of the salon, and started making out with her. I got the impression that he was actually mostly invited because the hostess wished to fix him up with said friend.

Meanwhile I became more and more determined not to get up in front of a number of people and recite a piece of dialogue from The X-Files. Instead, on the night of the salon, I decided to do a recital of ee cummings "Somewhere I have never travelled, gladly beyond". Except I don't know that one by heart, so I kept trying to find a computer that worked, so that I could get online and find the poem there. I found a computer, and I managed to print the poem as well, except the paper came out very mangled and torn, and I worried that I might not be able to read the poem.

Seeing no way out, however, I went in there in front of the audience and prepared to recite the poem to them. But then I woke up.

The Autograph

I guess if this blog has established anything thus far, it's that I dream about celebrities a lot. However, my dream brain seems to favour some celebrities over others, and it seems to be particularly fond of Harrison Ford, of whom I've now dreamed a total of three times since Martin and I started this blog.
.

The dream was this: I was talking to a girl named Lisa who was in my class when I first went to the university years ago (and whom I've had very little contact with since then in real life). She was telling me that she was going to star in a play along with Harrison Ford and several other A-list actors. The play was to be staged in Greenland, and it was supposed to be about the early history of the country, in celebration of some innuit holiday. In the dream this made sense because, as I thought, Harrison Ford looks vaguely like an innuit. Which makes no sense to me now that I'm awake of course. I don't think Harrison Ford looks anything like an innuit.

.

But then the dream changed and suddenly I was on a sidewalk somewhere in Copenhagen, and I noticed that Harrison Ford was standing about near by. I figured that if I wanted to meet Harrison Ford, this was a once-in-a-life-time opportunity, so I went up to him and said hello and asked him for an autograph. Which is a little surprising in and of itself, because I don't think I would ever do that in real life. Besides, does anyone even do the whole autograph thing anymore? I'm pretty sure people just snap a photo of themselves and the celebrity in question with their camera phones nowadays.

.

But Harrison Ford was very friendly and not at all as grumpy as he is often rumoured to be. He looked younger than in real life - he looked like himself in the 1990s. He started writing his signature on a sheet of paper that I'd handed him. "I really admire your work, Mr Ford," I then blurted out and he replied, still very friendly and smiling, "Yeah? What movies have you seen me in?" I panicked for a moment here, because once I got to thinking about it, most of the movies I've seen him in aren't very good. Like, I was wracking my brain trying to come up with a good title, and all I could think of was Regarding Henry which is an awful, awful film. I considered mentioning Blade Runner, which I love, but then I remembered that Ford reportedly had a terrible time shooting that movie, and I didn't want to run the risk of alienating him. I finally managed to tell him that I really like the Indiana Jones movies, "especially Raiders of the Lost Ark", and that I also love Witness. I then added a semi-nonsensical and much too long sentence about how I thought that "great acting, a great script and wonderful art direction really went perfectly together" in Witness and things got a little awkward again, because I could tell that Harrison Ford was thinking that I was starting to ramble a little there.

.

He handed me my signed piece of paper, and I was going to thank him and walk away, but then it occured to me that I ought to get an autograph for my dad as well, who loves Harrison Ford. So I asked Ford for another autograph. But it turned out that he was a little pressed for time, so instead he just suggested that he possess me, you know, kind of like the Devil does in The Exorcist. Yeah. As weird and/or scary as this sounds now, it seemed perfectly reasonable to me in the dream, and Harrison Ford was very casual about the whole thing. So he just possessed me, and then I felt my hand moving on its own, putting the pen to the piece of paper and scribbling a greeting and an autograph in Harrison Ford's handwriting. After that, Harrison Ford's spirit or whatever left me, and I thanked him politely and walked away.

.

I was eager to see what he'd written so after a while I took out the pieces of paper. I noticed that he'd written quite a long message for me on the first piece of paper I'd given him. I managed to read the first sentence. It read:

"I am a gorgeous man."

.
But then I was suddenly unable to read, and I couldn't make out the rest of it. Then I woke up.

A Macabre Visit to a Hospital

Last night I had this really weird nightmare-ish dream. In the dream, my mother was going to visit the editorial staff of one of the departments at the Danish Broadcasting Corporation, (even though in real life she does not have any connections there). She invited me to come, because I know some people there, and she thought I'd like to go say hi to them. We had to ride an elevator to get there, and in the elevator I realized that I was wearing a really ugly outfit, which caused me to fret a little.

Once we got out of the elevator, however, the dream changed, and it was no longer the DBC we were visiting, it was a hospital. We went into a hallway where my mother noticed a TV screen with a kind of information video playing. In the movie, a woman doctor in a white coat was talking about infant death. I didn't want to see it, but my mother was showing some interest in it and insisted that we stayed to watch it. Suddenly, however, the movie started showing the bodies of two dead infants being placed on some kind of weight, and this startled my mother and myself, so we started walking away.

Still a bit shocked by the images in the movie, we went into the first adjacent room we could find. There, however, a grim surprise awaited us: The room was some kind of a morgue, and there were several shelves on which dead babies were lying, piled on top of each other. We rushed out of the room, appalled at the sight, and my mother was horribly upset.

She quickly led us into another room where some empty hospital beds were standing around. It looked like an ordinary patient's ward, but for some reason I said to my mother: "This is the ambulatory - do you really think we're allowed to be here?" My mother, lowering herself on to one of the beds to sit down, said that she really didn't care right now; she just needed a moment to sit down and recover. She looked very pale, and I was afraid that she was going to be sick or faint.

Before I could tend to her, however, there was a loud pang and a tall black man fell on to one of the other beds, a gunshot wound through his chest, dead. "Danny Glover!!!" my mother and I yelled out in unison, because sure enough; Danny Glover it was, shot to death. For some reason I didn't even think about who might have shot him, I just thought about how incredibly unlucky my mother and I were being, walking into one macabre situation after the other. My mother must have had that same thought, because for a moment we just stared at each other in disbelief. Then I woke up.

While the dream was extremely unpleasant, I can't help being somewhat amused by the Danny Glover aspect of it. It's really incredible the lengths my dream-brain will go to, in order to squeeze in a celebrity sighting in my dreams. I think I've reached a new level of random celebrity-ness now that I've had Danny Glover fall dead out of nowhere in the middle of a dream about me, my mother, and infant death.

The Early-'90s Ziggy Examination

Last night I dreamt that I was somehow Andrea Zuckerman from 90210. I was her within the fictional world of the series, meaning that it was also the early '90s again, and I was wearing ridiculous clothes, and my hair looked awful. I had to take an exam in The History of Modern Culture at the University - a class I finished several years ago in real life. I showed up for the examination which, as it turned out, was to take place within a big auditorium. Everyone who had to be examined on that day were present and seated in the rows of the auditorium and the various examinations took place on stage in front of everybody else.

I was really nervous, because as is usually the case in this kind of dream, I suddenly couldn't remember a thing from the curriculum. And I didn't know exactly when my examination would be, so I had to just stay put in the auditorium, which stressed me out even more. Finally, however, a list was handed around to everyone, with a schedule clumsily drawn with a pencil, stating when each examination would take place, and also what subject the examination would be on. I was happy to see that it was still two hours until my examination - but less than happy that it was apparently going to be on the subject of the cultural significance of the comic strip Ziggy!

I have to stop for a moment here and say how completely random I think it is that Ziggy has been part of a dream of mine. I think the comic strip is incredibly lame and unfunny and never think about it, and I can't imagine how my brain came up with it. Other than the fact that I think I associate Ziggy, as well as 90210, with the early '90s, because Ziggy was quite popular in Denmark around that time.

Anyway. I decided that the two remaining hours until my examination were best spent going home to try to get my texts and notes from the class of History of Modern Culture and see if I could find anything on the subject of Ziggy, or something akin to Ziggy. So I hurried home on my bike, and tried to find it all, but I couldn't really find half of the curriculum. I was able to find a book on the history of modern culture, but it only covered history up until about 1900, so I wasn't likely to find anything about Ziggy there. Eventually, I decided to lie down and have a nap.

When I awoke I was almost late for my examination, so I rushed back to the university and made it just in time. I was greeted by the examinating professor, who had an announcement to make: "Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like to encourage you not to make your examinations too wordy. All my little brothers and sisters are going on dates, so I am in a bit of a hurry." You see, as it turned out, the professor had a bunch of poor ghetto kids to take care of, kind of like Wallace has in The Wire. I'm not sure how I even knew this.

Before the actual examination began, however, the scene was cut, and the next scene showed Andrea sitting on the beach. She was carving something into a stone that she'd picked up - an "A". I was no longer Andrea at this point, I was sort of watching her from outside, but I took this to mean that Andrea had been given an A. Suddenly Brandon Walsh came walking and sat down beside Andrea, asking her how things went. She told him, and he looked at his watch and noted that she'd been examined for an hour and fifteen minutes.

For some reason, the absurdity of this set-up suddenly dawned on me in the dream, and so I decided to interrupt Andrea's and Brandon's conversation by going all meta on their asses, laughingly telling them: "Hold on a minute, Andrea: You were talking for an hour and fifteen minutes about Ziggy? Jesus Christ, that is the most typically early-'90s thing I've ever heard, right there. Andrea Zuckerman telling Brandon Walsh about her examination on Ziggy the comic strip. I'm telling you guys, you may not realize this yet, but someday you are going to look back and know that this was the most extremely early-'90-ish moment of your entire lives."

And then I woke up.

The German Museum Custodian - Pt.1

This is dream which sits pretty squarely between WTF and random. I was at some seaside museum with two girls upon whom I had a crush about 15 years ago. We were walking around looking at the exhibition when I stumble upon a rather large scale model of Berlin. The model was inside a display case nested upon some sand. I, having lived in Berlin, was excited, and hoped to find my old house. Trying to get a good overview, I rested my hand on some of the sand which led the eastern part of Berlin collapsing.
This was of course a huge embarrassment, and I desperately tried to cover up my accident, but before I could repair the model a very German looking custodian arrived.

"WAS!?" he said, pointing at me. I mumbled some sort of a reply in German to which he did not react. After a few seconds of awkward silence another "WAS!?" pierced the room. At this point I was getting desperate, and started shoving the sand back into the model stand. This was of course to no avail, and suddenly more and more of the city started collapsing. "WAS?!" - the custodian was now pointing at the rather large hole in the model which was expanding at a steady rate. To my amazement the hole appearing inside the model led into a cave where some sort of skeleton could be seen. The custodian who was busy “WAS!?”'ing everything happening did for some reason not see me go down into the. The skeletons were of two giant deer like creatures. Perfectly intact and rather well detailed.
My phone then rang and a voice informed me that the director of the football club Brøndby IF Per Bjerregaard had bought the museum – this was gonna make money! I was thus rather happy with me discovery and even more when I noticed the HUGE dolphin next to the skeletons. We're talking a dolphin over 2 meters wide! It started jumping up and down, urging me to pet it. I then did that until another “WAS!?” could be heard and then I awoke. Heart beating and drenched in sweat.

Look forward to the highly unlikely return of the WAS!?-man in this German Museum Custodian two-parter!

Harrison Ford, Pierce Brosnan, and The Elephant Man

I had a dream some time last week in which I was still with my ex-boyfriend Jonas (a relationship that ended years ago). This is a recurrent dream scenario of mine, and in the dream I’m always in a state of panic, because I don’t want to be with him, I don’t understand how I even got back together with him, and I want to break it off, but I worry about hurting his feelings all over again. I was thinking about these things in this dream while I was hanging around in some kind of house. My mother was there, and we were discussing something or other. Suddenly, however, my mother left, and in walked Harrison Ford! And we’re talking young Harrison Ford here. Like, Harrison Ford from before I was even born. Hot.

For no apparent reason, Harrison Ford walked over to me and started kissing me. As already mentioned, he was hot, so I was all for that, until I remembered that I was still with Jonas, and then I felt terrible and freed myself from Harrison Ford's tender embrace. I walked out of the room – only to realize that the house I’d been in all along was Jonas’ house! And that he was sitting in a pink office chair in the room facing the one I was just in with Harrison Ford! Meaning that he’d had a clear view of what I’d been up to in there. I walked up to Jonas and tried to be all casual about it, thinking that just maybe Jonas didn’t see any of it after all. However, Jonas was looking glum and hurt and poignantly told me: “I demand to know why you were kissing Harrison Ford just now!” Which, when you think about it, is a sentence you get to hear much too rarely in every-day conversation.

I don’t remember how I managed to get out of that situation, but soon after I found myself in the kitchen of that same house, along with Jonas, Jonas’s mother, and Jonas’s younger sister. Jonas does not even have a younger sister in real life, but in this dream he did, and she was about eleven or twelve years old. Jonas’s mother knew all about the Harrison Ford incident, so things were incredibly awkward. Also, there was a television on in the kitchen, and we were watching the news. On the news it was announced that actor Pierce Brosnan had died. The anchorman explained that Brosnan had for years suffered badly from the same disease that the Elephant Man had in David Lynch's movie: Big tumors grew all over his face and made him look completely deformed. They showed a picture of him from during his illness, and he looked terrible. Somebody moved to switch off the television, worried, I believe, that Jonas’s little sister might be disturbed by the images. However, the little sister suddenly piped up, asking us to leave the television on, because she, so she said, had been a great fan of Pierce Brosnan and had for years been sending him implants for his face, and also other things, among these decorative little pushpins, trying to encourage him in his weakened state, so it meant a lot to her to hear his obituary on the news. And that is the last thing I remember from the dream.

Indiana Jones and the Fake Moustache

Last night I dreamt that I was in an Indiana Jones movie. On the fictional level at that - I was one of the characters. I'm not entirely sure what my part in the movie was, but a real-life ex-flame of mine, Giovanni, was also in the movie, as the villain.

The rest of the characters included Indiana Jones, Indiana Jones's father Henry Sr. (as played by Sean Connery) and Willie from Temple of Doom, and the artefact they were after in this movie was some kind of holy/magic book, possibly the Bible. To open the book, however, you had to find some kind of rock and a fake moustache (?).

Indy had succesfully retrieved these two objects somewhere in Syria and in the scene I remember most clearly, Indy, Willie and I were opening the book by putting the rock into some kind of hole and then placing the fake moustache next to the book. However, the book proved to be so powerful that it started burning after Indy opened it, flames emerging from its pages. Being mineral, the rock was unharmed by the fire, but the flames quickly devoured the fake moustache, and this caused Indy to worry: Henry Sr., who was not in this scene, had been after the rock, the fake moustache and the book for years, and Indy dreaded having to tell his father that he'd managed to destroy the fake moustache.

This was the set-up for the subsequent scene where Indy was reunited with his father and had to tell him what happened. He gleefully told him about the book and the rock, but hemmed and hawed like a nervous schoolboy when he came to the part about the fake moustache. He finally admitted that the moustache had burned, but to everyone's surprise, Henry Sr just. shrugged it off: "Of courshe it burned, Junior, it'sh a moustache! What did you exshpect!" he said in that Sean Connery way of his. As it turned out, you could use any old fake moustache you wanted to open the book - it was only the rock that mattered. Duh!

There was also a scene in which Willie had some dialogue, but I don't remember what she said. All I remember is that I noticed that she seemed to have undergone a personal development and become more mature than she was in Temple of Doom. In a very meta moment, I made a mental note to myself to remember to post an entry about this on the imdb message board for the movie. Being the girly girl that I am, I also noticed that she looked a lot prettier than she did in Temple of Doom: She was wearing a stylish red and black dress and her curls were softer and less frizzy.

Finally there was the last scene of the movie. In the scene, Giovanni, Henry Sr and I were all present while Indy bid Willie a tender goodbye, and Willie said: "Well, gee, Indy, thanks for all the adventures then... and, well, thanks for all the sex, I guess." A very random and inappropriate thing to say with everyone standing about, and Giovanni, Henry Sr and I all gave each other looks of WTF. Willie shrugged at our reaction and exclaimed "Well...!", and that's the last thing I remember from the dream. Something tells me that nobody is going to call me up and ask me to be a co-writer for the Indy 5 script.