Hmmm so. Imaginary plot to this imaginary movie: Léa plays a beleaguered writer who attempts suicide and enters a coma. When she “wakes up” she’s greeted by Matt, who says he’s an element of her subconscious meant to guide her through her dreamscapes and back to reality. Then… there are twists that I’m too tired to think up, and shit goes down.
I have no excuses for my life.
I’m starting to write this for fun and a;slkdfj good way to spend a rainy day. Look, here’s a rough ROUGH little excerpt of their first meeting (never posted my writing before, ugh vom):
“You really did it this time.” A man’s voice filtered through her clogged and aching senses, grim and pitying.
“Am I dead yet?” Cara croaked, eyes winching slowly open.
“Afraid not, love,” the voice replied.
“Am I in the hospital?” A blurry room melted in around her. She’d expected sterile white walls and fluorescent lights, but here she was surrounded by violet and the soft glow of a bedside lamp.
“Well… no. Like I said, you really did it this time.” The man sitting beside her bed was anything but a doctor. Dressed in a fine black suit, silk bowtie, and bowler hat, he was perched crookedly on a plain wooden chair. His broomstick-thin limbs, which should’ve been ungainly and awkward, were all crossed casually, giving him an assertive air. Confused, Cara scanned the room again.
“This is my room! I mean, not my room now, but—” The chipped rocking horse in the corner, the piles of books decorating every bare surface, it was all there. “This was my room.” Her childhood room, and her home for twelve years. This morning she’d opened her wrists expecting heaven, hell, some kind of afterlife, but somehow this was better. Absolutely nothing had changed.
“I figured we’d start at a safe place, to get your mind used to existing on a subconscious plane,” said the man.
“And who the hell are you anyway?” Cara finally asked.
“Me?” The man’s eyebrows flew up as he pointed to himself innocently. “Um, call me Ego, I guess. Even though the rest of your brain is simply shrieking at me right now. I know you were never a fan of Freudian psychology, but if the shoe fits…”