Oh, today has been a little nuts. I had an appalling dream. Well, no - merely weird. It was coherent, made narrative sense and I was almost entirely lucid. Those three facts are very unusual. My dreams are always as organised as a Pollock painting. Most dump me into the "middle" of a plot, without ever providing me with an introduction or conclusion, and I am never ever lucid. This was dramatic, moving, and violent. And Flame related. It's the last bit which is making me worry.

Any regulars on the blog will know that a disturbing dream has the power to destabilise me for the rest of the day. This was very disturbing. I wrote all the details down, but daren't look at them. It reminds me of a time I accidentally killed a character off while doing a story draft. I'd just started this new chapter out of the blue, and then without my permission N. goes and dies on me, simply walks off and into the afterlife. I was a bit shocked. I do have some fairly romantic ideas about the writing process: I do strongly believe things tend to write themselves. But I love N. so, so badly that I saved the file, closed it and haven't looked at it since. Or thought about it. I refuse to admit it's happened. This is what the dream feels like: it actually feels like a piece of Flame continuity come to punish me. This other character, I haven't let die - I've thought about it, abstractly, but never actually done it. I was just intending to let the issue linger open-ended. God, I'm not going to think about it. It was merely a very stupid dream.

In any case, it has been bothering me. At lot. This afternoon, I went to watch some TV to get it out of the system. I've been saving Invasion of Time - Fourth Doctor plus Leela - for a day when I needed some Fourth Doctor. I don't have a favourite Doctor, but I do recognise they are all very different. Tom Baker's era is generally unworrying - something about the style and tone of the episodes, the confidence and mockery in his performance. This isn't necessarily better or worse, just convenient on days when I need something comforting. I only watch the Third Doctor when I feel like paying attention, Doctor Seven for atmosphere - the others I can't even define, it's too intangible.

I decided on a whim to watch Peeping Tom instead - nasty 60s serial killer movie, about a voyeur who likes to film murders. I was already on edge, and hoped it'd shock it out of the system. Well, it's wonderful. Terrifying, but wonderful. I don't really like scary movies because, unsuprisingly, they scare me. But it's a fun emotion in small doses, and this is a very artfully directed and challengning movie. Because it's a film about films, about watching, and it pulls that whole trick where you despise the protagonist but can't take your own eyes off the screen.
Calypso, next time you want an interesting, twisted movie about male gaze, this comes highly recommended. I was glad it was just me, though - I've mentioned before that I'm a fairly physical viewer. I flinch, cower, bounce, laugh, whatever is appropriate - I think I might have actually screamed in the last ten minutes. Damn fine movie.

And then I tried Invasion of Time which bucked my expectation by being possibly the least comforting, least calming Fourth Doctor adventure I've already seen. And dull and confusing into the bargain.

Tomorrow will be better.