“This is a dream about a movie that is yet to be made”
by Jon Rappoport
June 6, 2017
Audience addiction to Story is complete. They must have beginning, middle, and end. Without it, they would spin out of control. Or so they think. But every dream they have contradicts this. Dreams more real than real have no story line that finishes. This contradiction requires some attention. If there is enough patience. If people can wait long enough to get involved in stories that don’t operate in the usual fashion. A university could be founded on the question: Do you have the capacity to follow a story that has no beginning, middle, or end? Could you? Would you? How much money would they have to pay you?
“All dreams are movies, and all movies are dreams.” This I learned at the Cite in Paris in 1955, from the coach of the Indo-Chinese ping pong team. He was a physician’s assistant in Berlin and told me soon a pregnant woman would be able to decide the sex of her child.
Here is the script so far, as taken from a dream.
I’ve seen these belly-up ships from war
In green and gold
And sailors pouring on to docks
Running down long halls I understand Your Honor that my testimony might come across as too incisive too much to the point but why wait it’s clear that the people your investigators are searching for include yours truly I’m part of the plot to take down the whole rotting edifice but if you think I’m going to take my sentence lying down I have resources you’ve never imagined to quote a thousand movies this whole proceeding is a joke
What’s that? Do I know I’m dreaming? Of course I do, Sir. Otherwise, why would I be here? Have you seen the shadows of buildings that don’t match the structures and the warm milky hills in the middle of downtown? What I want to know is, who are you? Why don’t you tell this court? You’re the trespasser. We were filming random testimonies about mysteries until you showed up. You know, the mindless navy invasion, the labs, the direct insertion of images in the visual cortex, the background noises in the middle of the night, the printing of trillions of dollars, the apparent arms deals fronted by the american association of dentists.
Who is on trial here? I haven’t seen your credentials. For all I know you could be some kind of machine. But we’ve got you in our sights. We’re going to squeeze you until we get some answers. Take off your coat and tie, Sir. Remove your shoes. Place your eyeglasses on the podium. Search him for weapons and recording devices, boys. I want to know if he has a script. Look through his wallet. He might be a member of an actors union. What do you know about a clandestine organization operating out of Virginia, Your Honor? No not that one. I’m referring to an animated studio, where they build walking talking images. Judges, clerks, doctors, television anchors, colonels and generals nobody ever heard of. I knew a doctor in Chicago who ran for a seat on the city council and then they discovered he had no practice or degree he didn’t show up in any database he had no wife or children the photos were all manufactured he dissolved at a rally in a pile of dust they combed through the debris and found a tooth from a dead lion they traced to a local zoo an old beast someone had shipped in from the veldt with a case of TB.
I’ve had lots of dreams, Your Honor. I’ve learned a few tricks, one of which is turning the tables. I wait until somebody shows up out of the blue, which is called a clue. Then I bring in my boys and we grill him. Occasionally, we extract useful information. This isn’t a lovefest. We don’t put ourselves at the mercy of an unknown superior. We don’t go in for paranoia, either. We vet. We examine. We question. We know our own territory.
Back there somewhere, we started out just wanting to be left alone. That was it. Then the interlopers arrived. We spotted a few who were wandering around trying to blend in. They were looking for information. We didn’t have any, but of course they couldn’t accept that. Now we’ve got military people on our own side. They come in here trying to help. But the whole point of our locales was to avoid exactly what’s happening now.
We’re filming in black and white. I insist on that.
We’re basically operating with a medium that is close to the medium of perception. Suppose you want a large ship to sink with passengers on board. But they survive nicely. In fact, the deeper the ship goes, the dryer the landscape—the passengers are eating and drinking and walking outside the ship to explore the terrain. What do they find? You might want them to come upon a giant newspaper office staffed with people talking on phones and scribbling notes. There’s no reason not to. Mindless activity is good. Fragments of conversation. You almost think you know what it’s about. In the middle of the babble a large figure appears. The boss. The judge. Your Honor. The big cheese. The publisher. He’s going to try to take over the picture.
He’s the big cheese. He waits for no man. “I’ve got a raft of orders today, boys. I want the random stuff to stop. You’re all over the place. This picture is mine. I run it, I own it, I back it, I pay for it…” This is exactly what I want, because this guy is mine. I’ve got him wrapped up because I’m giving him enough rope to hang himself. Bring him forward in all his glory. The audience will root for him because they want the chaos to stop. Do you know why? Because it’s too familiar. They recognize the events and spoken words, as if they’ve lived them and dreamed them before. That’s their problem. I’m just putting one foot in front of the other. Scene by scene. There’s no resolution in a movie because there’s no resolution in a dream. You think there is, but there isn’t. For the big cheese, I’m probably going to need a political rally. People going crazy with excitement inside a bubble.
Now your biography starts to thread its way through the movie. Why not? You’re intensely interested in your life and your past. You want to see it in the movie. You see it and you’re in it. But instead of just you, you’re a character. A drug trafficker from Brazil. A surgeon in a war-torn Third World hell hole. A clerk at the CIA. You don’t know why you’re these characters, but it makes sense that you are. Making sense=familiar. To what degree do I want to let the audience into the movie? It’s a delicate decision. I’ll see. Self-fascination should have limits. You have a dream—you’re standing outside a grocery store looking through the window. You notice the customer is you. The cashier is you. The shopper walking down an aisle is you. The thief who’s wondering whether to rob the cashier is you. How can you look away? You feel it’s a gimmick, but you’re drawn to it. We’ll give that scene a few minutes in the movie, just to claim the audience is important.
The script is expanding in several directions with no end in sight.
The movie goes on and on, so even if there are people (most people) who’ve never heard of it, eventually they will. They’ll drop in. They can move in at any point, because frankly the movie is endless. When you know that…that’s spiritual leverage. Even a bird sitting up in a tree will drop in on the movie. A copy boy in Pittsburgh in 1943 will drop in. A barrister in a gentlemen’s Club in London will sooner or later drop in. In the middle of an earthquake, a waiter will drop in. When do you recognize your own dreams are taking place before your eyes?
The role of the psychological philosopher, ah yes. He’s the judge and the big cheese, too. He appears, on and off, to explain the connection of dreams to reality, but everything he says is false. He is the clock on the wall giving the wrong time. Eventually, he is run over by a herd of buffalo stampeding outside a shopping mall. Just seconds before his death, he is casting a short line into a coy pond in front of a Chinese restaurant. He’ll appear later as a lathe operator at a plant in Newcastle. He’s also running for a seat in the US senate from Illinois.
There’ll be people flying in the movie. Ordinary people. Up in the air. I want to capture their expressions when they know they’re flying, when they feel it. The trick is to actually get them to fly. No fake stuff. They’re really in the air over the city, no aids, no wings, no motors. Then we see their faces. In the movie, in the dream, I’ll have to convince them they can fly. It may take a while. We’ll film those conversations. Not everyone who flies laughs. Some people are afraid. Some are bored because they’re already dead. A dead person flying. Make a note on that. DEAD PEOPLE FLYING. There’s a law against it. Researchers from US medical university are studying the effect and giving interviews to the press. They babble on. They’re on television. Which sends them into orgasmic ecstasy. Hi Mom, I’m on TV. I’ve got face time. The interviewer had dead eyes, I couldn’t understand it, Mom. He was animated and dead. My favorite anchor is a dead duck. Bright and shiny and dead. Contrast the effect of flying vs. seeing a bright and shiny dead anchor. Political rally. Giant hall. Used to be a warehouse, transship point for drugs. Cut in: Lawyer for Sinaloa Cartel lieutenant arrested in Chicago claims his client made an immunity deal with the DEA and CIA. No prosecution. Sinaloa provides actionable intel on other cartels in exchange for clean drug routes up through California all the way to Chicago. The flying people appear in the hall, outside the hall, in the sky. Open space. Higher. Space starts to be endless. Other planets.
When does the film crew start to check out? After the movie is 100 hours and still going strong? Bring in new people. Let them fumble with the equipment and learn how to use it. They’re in the movie. Studio execs show up. Anger boiling over. Behind schedule and over budget. Dream figures from the studio. They believe their lives are on the line. The audience knows these people from other dreams. They’re money nomads, wandering from place to place going nuts about the accounting.
Reporters are killing each other. No one knows why. They’re chasing each other down in the street and shooting shiny Glocks. Firings at newspapers can produce this effect. He went to a good college. He understands subject-verb agreement. How on earth could you fire my son? The moon rises up in a lake and moves into the sky. But the reporters don’t die. They stand up and resume their work. There are stories to get out. The show must go on. Three fires in the Bronx. A cab drove into the East River. A docent at the Museum of Modern Art found a six-carat diamond in her jockstrap.
Mind control experiment went bad. We have to cover it. Send the boys over to the lab facility. Be careful, though. The Army might grab you. Get photos and footage. I understand they have a rhesus human hybrid. See if you can get a few quotes from him. If the vice-president shows up, put him side by side with the hybrid. Photos. Compare and contrast. Let’s do a diagram with arrows and body parts…
At some point, the movie will start to remind the viewer of reality, not through any specific effort, but because any dream taken far enough reminds people of their lives…
Make a note on that.
(To read about Jon’s mega-collection, Exit From The Matrix, click here.)
The author of three explosive collections, THE MATRIX REVEALED, EXIT FROM THE MATRIX, and POWER OUTSIDE THE MATRIX, Jon was a candidate for a US Congressional seat in the 29th District of California. He maintains a consulting practice for private clients, the purpose of which is the expansion of personal creative power. Nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, he has worked as an investigative reporter for 30 years, writing articles on politics, medicine, and health for CBS Healthwatch, LA Weekly, Spin Magazine, Stern, and other newspapers and magazines in the US and Europe. Jon has delivered lectures and seminars on global politics, health, logic, and creative power to audiences around the world. You can sign up for his free NoMoreFakeNews emails here or his free OutsideTheRealityMachine emails here.