I'm not really sure where this one came from. It started out as a short story, but didn't seem to want to be confined to that style. So it stared growing into a screenplay... my first one ever.



BEGIN WITH BLACK SCREEN

Maybe the credits start here, introducing the actors. Everything begins with crowd NOISE. Not a big crowd though.

AIDAN (VO)

Memories, sometimes, are the only things you have left. I used to be sad that there was no way to record memories for other people to look at. But then I realized that writing does the same thing, only the pictures in your head might be different from what the pictures are in everyone else's head. The reactions that they produce might be different, even though they're connected by a common theme. But there are still pictures.



FADE IN-- INT. SMOKY CAFE, MEDIUM-SIZED, VERY CROWDED

A small stage, a podium and microphone on it, a lonely spotlight shining from behind. Very hazy, no background behind it all. A Bohemian WOMAN walks up to the podium.

WOMAN

Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce to you our featured poet tonight. What can I say about this man? He's taken the concept of poetry to a new personal level, getting inside your head, literally. People say that he's a prodigy, being published at 22. A lot of people link Dylan Thomas with his name these days. But, from we can tell by the couple of times he's read here, he can only get better. This man draws crowds.



She sighs, at a loss for words.

WOMAN

Damn. I'll just skip the rest of it. Ladies and gentlemen, Aidan Doyle.



There is wild applause. A little more feedback from the mic.

Our main man, the up-and-coming poet AIDAN DOYLE, walks up to the poduim. He's a lithe 23 year-old, medium height, with dark long brown hair.

AIDAN (VO)

This might be a silly question: Have you ever dreamt? Some people dream, and don't wake up. Other people dream, and remember. Still more dream, and forget. Other people are killed by their dreams. I knew someone once who didn't dream at all. I was killed in a dream once. But I was alive when I woke up, I survived. I survived, to dream more dreams. Another time I dreamed, and it breathed life into me.



He opens up a tattered notebook and shuffles some papers in front of him as the last smatterings of applause fade.

AIDAN

Good evening, sirs and madams. Well, I had in mind some of my older stuff, but tonight, I thought I would read some brand new poems that I wrote over the past couple of weeks. They're about... dreams. But a different kind of dream than what I've experimented with before. Before, I used to write about dreams being incarnate, coupling with them and creating new children to write about. But this time, I wanted to write about dreams not being outside of me, but inside instead. And... they're about remembrance too. Something I had to learn to do all over again.





FADE TO BLACK

FADE TO INT.-- A LONG CORRIDOR

Aidan is walking down a gloomy corridor with a GIRL, who I will leave unnamed. They stop, and Aidan looks around him. The shot should FOLLOW HIS FACE as he looks around him. There are no doors and the ends of the hall are both obscured by complete darkness. There are lights above him and the girl, though they aren't very good. Both of their voices ECHO slightly.

AIDAN

Have I seen you before?

GIRL

No, but I have seen you before. Many times, in fact.

AIDAN

But why do you seem familiar to me?

GIRL

I don't know. Maybe I've been in your dreams or something.



The sound of ocean WAVES fades in the background as she's talking.

DISSOLVE TO-- P.O.V. UNDER THE OCEAN, LOOKING UP AT THE SURFACE, THE WATER'S MOVING AROUND

AIDAN (VO)

Is there something to be said about beginning at the start of one's tale? Of course, if you started at the end it would ruin the whole thing. You could look at like this: I could be alone. I could fall in love with a girl, and she with me. And then she could leave me, and I would be alone again. In that scenario there's not much difference in my physical situation at the start and at the finish.



Fade in the sound of many VOICES, some whispering, some softly talking, all about dreams, what is in their dreams, etc.

FADE IN-- MOVING OVERHEAD SHOT OF THE STRIP (OR EVEN FROM A MOVING CAR)-- DAY

AIDAN (VO)

Emotionally, though, that's a different story. The look of the face, the lilt of sadness in the voice at the end is completely different from the joyous tones of the man in the beginning.



DISSOLVES TO SAME EXACT SHOT, EXCEPT NIGHTTIME

AIDAN (VO)

The point I'm getting at here is that I want to start at the beginning. Want to, that is, so that I can get through everything, remember everything so that it'll make sense.



More credits here, main title or something like that.

DISSOLVE TO A MOVING SHOT, LOTS AND LOTS OF BIG BOOKSHELVES IN A SHOP-SIZED BUILDING

DOC (a female voice with a Southern lilt, sounding far away

Aidan, put that down.



STOP IN THE ROW AIDAN IS STANDING IN

He tucks some hair behind his ear. He's holding a really old book in his hand.

AIDAN

Put what down?

DOC

Aidan, don't test me. I know you better than your own mother knew you. Put the book you got there in your hand down.

AIDAN (raising his head)

Come on Doc. You never even knew my mother.

DOC

Maybe I didn't, but I know you have a book in your hand which is probably very valuable. Put it down before I have to sue you for holding it and damaging it. I'll do it; I don't need the money, but I'll do it, just to kick your ass.

AIDAN

And you would think of doing something like that, too. I'm not holding anything.



There's an audible sigh.

DOC

Aidan Andrew Doyle. Don't make me ask again.



He shuts the book, looking at the cover. It's the collected works of Lord Byron, and it does look like a very expensive book. He smiles, slipping the book back in the little niche it belongs.

AIDAN (to himself)

She walks in beauty, like the night of cloudless climes and starry skies... unless you live in Seattle or something.



CUT TO DOC

She's sitting on the floor, surrounded by mounds of books. She's a lanky 60-something with long silver/gray hair that's pulled back in a ponytail, looks jaded enough about the world not to care, but able to crack a smile at any given moment.

DOC

Aidan, come here.

AIDAN

I'm coming, I'm coming.



He walks down the aisle, and as he turns the corner he almost runs into a huge stack of books. He holds out his hands to make sure it doesn't fall.

AIDAN

What the hell--?

DOC

Boy, how many times do I have to tell you be careful around here? Jesus, you're going to destroy something you know you can't afford to pay for, and that I can't replace. Let me rephrase that: You're going to destroy something your father can't afford to pay for, and that neither of us can replace.

AIDAN

Oh, and thank you Mrs. Motivational Speaker for giving me the skinny on how to feel guilty about not being employed. I know what I'm doing.

DOC

Yeah right. You think you do, and that's what scares me.



She ruffles through some papers that are scattered around her.

DOC

Hand me that book up there.

AIDAN

Um, Doc, could you be a little more vague?

DOC

Oh, that one on top of the stack you almost knocked over. Dante's Inferno.



Aidan grabs the book, looks at it, raises his eyebrows.

AIDAN

How on earth, with all these books, did you know--

DOC (holding out her hand for the book)

I know, Aidan. Why do you question these things, after all this time? The sun rises, and I know where all my books are. It's a natural thing. Just give me the book so I don't have to get up and hurt myself, and then hurt you.

AIDAN (handing her the book)

So you put my life in danger. Thanks.



She looks at him.

DOC

Boy, if you get hurt, you heal. I won't. I have a right to sit on my ass.

AIDAN (semi-sarcastically)

I can't argue with that, Doc. You are older and wiser after all.

DOC

You damn right I am.



She looks at him and sighs.

DOC

Now, help this old lady up so you won't have to take her to the doctor.



FADE TO BLACK