E1 - DREAM LOG: The Room [TS] Written by Damien Oz [AUDIO RECORDER CLICKS ON] [CLOSE TO HIS FACE] ANTHONY “Um..” (mumbling to himself) “Is this on? Is… oh, ok. Great.” [HE SETS THE RECORDER DOWN ON THE TABLE WITH A SOFT SOUND.] [AUDIO AT A REASONABLE DISTANCE.] ANTHONY “Uh, ok. So-” (sigh) “Let’s just… get into it then. I'm Anthony Walker and I’m, um, a student and a Teaching Assistant. I’m working towards my Masters in the Astrobiology department for Physics, with a current goal of specializing in astrophysics. Though that might... change, since I've been enjoying atomic physics more recently… oh, and I TA for an undergrad Astronomy lab. This… is the start of… um… Ah…” [ANOTHER SIGH. HE’S NOT SURE WHERE TO START WITH ALL OF THIS.] ANTHONY (Quietly, as though briefly leaning away) “Ok, you know what? Let’s do… this...” [THE SOUNDS OF MOUSE CLICKING] [HE LEANS BACK IN TO THE MICROPHONE] “I’m starting a short scientific project that these logs will form the basis of. For context I… haven’t been sleeping well. I’ve- well, I've sort of… been having these…. dreams. (A bit distant) Well, it's one dream, but it's been recurring these last two months or so. Well, okay, it’s more of a recurring nightmare. I, um.” [A BRIEF BEAT OF SILENCE. HE’S A BIT DEFEATED, IF NOT A BIT EMBARRASSED.] ANTHONY “It sounds stupid, and I really didn’t think that much of it but... I had an accident in the lab a week ago, in a class setting. We were working with Bose-Einstein Condensates- cold atom lab stuff, and I was supposed to be watching but I was just so exhausted… I- I mean I didn’t doze off or anything but-” (pause) “Some glass exploded. Just went. Pshh. Everywhere. I still don’t know why. We were using liquid Helium, which has a long history of use and no history of explosions- and- and- and the containers that hold the gasses never shatter like that.” [QUIETLY IN THE BG: CLASS DISCUSSION. THE SOUND OF BREAKING GLASS, YELPS AND SHRIEKS, AND A VOICE GOING “bWuH!?” FROM THE INCIDENT] ANTHONY “Thankfully, I was the only one who got hurt, and it wasn’t serious. I mean, probably. I think the doctor said it would scar a little on my head and hand" [ANTHONY GESTURES. WE HEAR FABRIC MOVEMENT. HE TALKS A LOT WITH HIS HANDS.] "but the rest of the cuts are, uh, superficial and will disappear. My professor claimed it was a freak accident" (insistent) "but I was supposed to be monitoring! I was supposed to be monitoring temperature and activity- and if another student got hurt, all on my watch– it’s! It's not okay! Especially in a graduate setting, lab safety is basic knowledge. It's fundamental, and I- I mean I blew it quite literally-” (A brief grounded chuckle in his frenzied recountment) [HE TAKES A MOMENT TO CALM DOWN. HE’S A BIT FRAZZLED] ANTHONY “So I’ve decided that this recurring dream? Needs to stop. Now, I’ve mentioned it to a couple friends, namely Sandra and Jericho, and they recommended getting a sleep therapist or something, or just going to general therapy to see if there’s a psychological root to it. To which I replied, 'Sandra that’s stupid', and they said, 'Why?', and then I said, 'Because I’m broke, Sandra.' Therapy? In this economy? Not on my salary. Ahem.” [HE TAKES A SECOND TO STRETCH.] ANTHONY “Instead, I decided to just… conduct my own research on it. Record some dreamlogs going over my sleep for the next week or so, and see if I can find a pattern.” (trying to be professional) "Maybe it will be psychological, of course," (yawns) "dreams being a result of your brain sorting information and things. Like, I hang around my friends and research a lot of astronomy so I see those things in my dreams, right? So-" [AUDIO QUALITY DROPS SLIGHTLY- DISTORTION. THERE IS THE QUIET ZZT SOUND OF SEVERAL LIGHT BULBS FLICKERING] ANTHONY (slowly, distracted, lingering) “...sorry. The lights.. just flickered. Huh- Oh actually, I think it was supposed to storm tonight. I hope we don’t have a power outage. If we do though, I'm pretty sure my laptop has enough charge? I could just swap over. Anyway,” [THE SOUND OF PAPER- HE GRABS A NOTEPAD FROM HIS BACKPACK] “So that’s the summary. Sleep deprivation caused by recurring nightmares leading to a lab accident. I’m here to figure out why they’re happening, and how to stop them. Lifestyle change, unaddressed anxieties, what I ate for breakfast… who’s to say?” “Now that the introduction is out of the way, let’s get into this. Um." (tongue click) “I don’t know why this is so… embarrassing. I’m the only one here, and the only one who’s going to listen back to this. So just… spill the beans, Walker.” [BRIEF PAUSE. THEN HE LEANS FORWARD, CLOSER TO THE MIC THAN HIS CASUAL DISTANCE. TONE OF VOICE CHANGES, A BIT DISTANT, BUT MORE STORY-LIKE.] ANTHONY “Anthony Walker. Dream Log, the… 6th of February, 2023. 8:47 pm. Dream recountment begins.” [HE HESITATES] “I… I always wake up in the same room. Lying facedown on the same bed, worn comforter under my cheek. As I come to, the room is filled with a dim, yellow light, fuzzy spots before my eyes. There's something on the ground beside the bed that… I can never focus my eyes on it, but I know it’s a small train set, with adjustable train-tracks. A kid's toy. I sit up carefully and kick my feet over the edge of the bed, bleary, trying to orient myself and get a better look at it. And as soon as I rise, the anxiety starts to slowly but steadily creep in.” [THE SOUND OF BLANKETS RUSTLING.] [WE CAN HEAR THE SMALL TRAIN MOVING ON ITS TRACK SLOWLY BUT SURELY. THE HUMMING OF LIGHTBULBS. SOFT MUSICAL AMBIENCE.] ANTHONY “The room is small- rectangular, though it’s very nearly a square. The walls have been papered over, but it peels at the edges, dull color curling over and hiding itself. On turning, I find that the bed I'd been resting on is tucked into the corner. Next to where the headboard is pressed against the wall, there stands a tall, dark, rustic dresser. The large top portion has two doors, each adorned with a small ring that can be used to tug them open. Beneath that, a set of three drawers make up the bottom portion of the dresser. The floor is… well I think it’s wood, but I… can't remember it clearly." [THERE IS A SOUND OF CREAKING AS ANTHONY SITS UP, GETS UP AND OFF THE BED, AND THEN CAREFUL STEPS ON THE WOODEN FLOOR.] [AS HE TELLS THE STORY, ANTHONY APPROACHES THE DRESSER. THE SOFT CLINK OF THE RINGS, THE SLIDING OF THE WOOD AS HE OPENS, AND THE SOFT CLUNK AS HE CLOSES IT.] “Then I turn my attention to the window, sitting on the adjacent wall that the bed touches, next to the.. footboard? It looks like a pure white slide-open window, paint chipped slightly along the wood. And so I stand, puzzled in the middle of this deteriorating room. Trying to make sense of why I'm here, what to do next, when finally… A door catches my eye. A door on the wall across from my bed, made of weathered wood like the dresser, complete with a brassy knob." (Quieter, trying to remember) "…Or was it one of those doors with a ring handle?” [BRIEF AUDIO DISTORTION] “However, every time I’m here, as soon as I notice the door… the warm buzzing light in the room flickers, and goes out, plunging the room into the dark.” [THE FAINT BUZZING OF THE LIGHTS STOPS AND STARTS FLICKERING BEFORE IT DIES. THE MUSIC ALSO ABRUPTLY ENDS. THE ROOM CREAKS OMINOUSLY. A STARTLED, SHAKY BREATH FROM ANTHONY IS HEARD.] ANTHONY “Thanks to the miniscule amount of light the window sheds- and really, it is strangely little for a window of that bright a white- I'm left squinting, struggling in the dark to make out the room, now suddenly cast in deep, muted grays. With the death of the lights comes silence, ever present hum now absent. And in that silence, I freeze, listening… and I begin to hear this skittering outside the walls of the room.” [DISTANT SCRATCHING, SCRABBLING SOUNDS, LIKE THE CREATURE IS WALKING ALONG THE WALLS OF THE ROOM FROM THE OUTSIDE. ANTHONY GASPS QUIETLY- THE SMALLEST INTAKE OF BREATH.] “My palms sting, nails drawing blood. I don’t… think I breathe in dreams, but the ache catches in my throat all the same. A chill, like rain, trails down my back and settles into my gut. Eyes widening to catch sight of something- hopeless in the dark but desperate all the same…" (There’s a pause, there’s no words) "There’s no furniture in the room that’s small enough for me to be able to move in time, and the train set is way too tiny to make a difference. So instead, I snatch up the blanket from the bed. I throw it over my shoulders- left first, then around to the right- and I rush to the door and throw myself down, with my back to it.” [THE SOUNDS OF FEET PATTERING, THE FLUTTER OF THE BLANKET. A THUD ON WOOL, AND THE THUNK OF HIS BACK PUSHING AGAINST THE DOOR. AUDIO "ANCHORS" AT THE DOOR, QUIETER WHEN AWAY AND COMES BACK WITH MORE VOLUME.] ANTHONY “The skittering grows louder. Something sharp scrapes against the wood, becomes insistent scratching, the reverb in my ear. I shiver as though it were carving directly into my spine, catching along each vertebra.” [SOUNDS OF LOUD SCRATCHING, WITH THAT UNCOMFORTABLE NAILS-ON-A-CHALKBOARD EFFECT- BUT ONLY A LITTLE BECAUSE THAT SOUND IS AWFUL. OR WE CAN DULL IT SLIGHTLY.] [ANTHONY'S BREATHING GETS SHAKY. WE HEAR HIM SHIFT AGAINST THE DOOR. THEN, HE MAKES THE SMALLEST SOUND OF CONFUSION.] “After a few minutes… the scratching stops. I sit there, each muscle stone. Scarcely breathing. The air is still. Heavy with trepidation." [DRAMATIC PAUSE.] "And then it starts to slam on my door. Repeatedly.” [THE SOUND OF SLAMMING ON THE DOOR, WITH THE DUAL CLICK OF IT OPENING SLIGHTLY, AND BEING FORCED SHUT AGAIN. ANTHONY PUSHES BACK WITH ALL HIS MIGHT.] [CHOKED SOUNDS OF “Ghk!” UPON THE FIRST SLAM, AND THE LOUD THUNK OF HIS HEAD AGAINST THE DOOR. OTHER REPRESSED FEAR SOUNDS. SLAMMING AGAINST THE DOOR CONTINUES- ANTHONY IS CLEARLY FIGHTING FOR HIS LIFE HERE TO KEEP THE DOOR CLOSED. ANOTHER "GAH"-LIKE SOUND AND SOUNDS OF PANIC.] [THESE SFX FADE A BIT- QUIETER AND QUIETER SO THE MONOLOGUE CAN OVERLAY WITH PRIORITY.] ANTHONY “The first hit jolts me forward. My head collides with the wood with a dull thunk on the way down. Dazed and weak from pain, the next slam manages to gain ground. The door opens a quarter of a foot, I think. I'm trying to gauge the size of the gap- I can only sort of see it off to the side. I push my back upwards against the door again, scrambling to my feet for more purchase. Then I rear back, just for a split second and I ram my shoulder into the door” [A QUIET AND PAINED GASP OF "GAH!" IN THE BACKGROUND. THE SOUNDS OF THE DOOR STRUGGLE ARE ONGOING.] “forcing the gap closed, nearly shutting it. It bounces off the edge of the frame slightly, door-ring clinking, and then shoves back forward. The wood smashes into the back of my head again, onslaught relentless, and I feel tears prick at my eyes, burning. My head feels heavy. I’m just trying to sway in a backwards direction instead of forward towards the window. But the room is spinning. Gasping for breath, I sink my nails into the wood of the door and the frame, and feel splinters emerge. God help me. It lasts forever. It lasts forever in that- that alternating hell. Except there’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and I can’t fight. So I just sit here, crying,” [THE SOUND OF CRYING, NEAR HYPERVENTILATION. THIS IS THE END] “and I'm doing my best to keep my door closed and keep that thing out of my room- Thinking to myself, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening!" [HE SLAMS HIS FIST ON THE DESK IN A FIT OF ANXIETY- PUNCTUATES LAST PHRASE. HE’S NEAR TEARS IN HIS RETELLING.] "A final harsh push against the door… And then my arms give out. I lose my grip on the doorframe. I fall forward, onto my knees. And as the door begins to swing open…" [WE HEAR ANTHONY CRY OUT AND FALL, THUD OF KNEES. THE CREAK OF THE DOOR. A SOUND OF SOME SORT OF MONSTER. THE CLICKING OF SOME SORT OF FEET APPROACHING.] [HE SITS BACK- RETURNING TO HIS USUAL CADENCE. HE SOUNDS WEARY, GRADUALLY BECOMING MORE SHAKY.] ANTHONY "I wake up. Here, in my bed, in yet another room. After I turn my alarm off, I always have to like… I don’t know, pinch myself. I spend most mornings really out of it. Disoriented. I use any sensory aspect of my morning routine to try and convince myself that I’m fine and I’m awake.” “But my hands always ache. When I look into them, they’re wet with blood oozing sluggishly from little indent-cuts in my palm. And there’s dried blood crusted under my nails, and coating my fingertips. My head aches, but it usually fades in a few minutes after I’ve sat up.” “I always… hesitate to open the door and go into the hallway. I stand there, like an idiot with my stupid hands shaking. And it is stupid, the lingering fear. Because it’s just a dream. But I just put on the ol’ lab coat and tell myself that if I’m late to the lab again Dr. Estrada will fire me. And the thought of how that’s going to look when I apply to a lab in the future is terrifying! Hahaha. And then I go to class and crack an energy drink. The bonus is that people think my shaking is just the caffeine.” [HE BREATHES A HEAVY SIGH- BREATHE OUT THAT ANXIETY ANTHONY. COMPOSE YOURSELF. YOU’RE A SCIENTIST, GODDAMMIT.] ANTHONY “So- Oh! Uh- dream recountment ends." (he makes a stupid little pshheww noise or sings a little jingle) "Forgot that part. I want to try and keep these logs sort of clean. Do the information introduction, mark the start and end of the dreams, and reserve the end for comments. In terms of comments this time, I’m.. not really sure. I think as I log it, I’ll notice any changes and patterns. Right now the running hypothesis is that it’s a heightened anxiety dream reflecting ‘feeling trapped by circumstances’- could be overwork, feeling, uh, hunted- which is what Sandra is always telling me. The thing outside the door could very much be some sort of embodiment of fears or something. It would be nice if I could get more information, or leave the room to see it-" [THERE IS THE ZZT SOUND OF SEVERAL LIGHT BULBS DYING ALL AT ONCE] “Uh- I- Oh! Um?” (He is startled and slightly confused) “Uh, sorry I? Well, all my lights just… went out. All at once. I literally just replaced those. The circuits here suck- they randomly surge so I’m always um, replacing bulbs. Hm. That's… really annoying, actually. But I can always finish my work on my laptop anyway.” [HE’S CALMED DOWN AND IS A BIT MORE COLLECTED.] (a bit to himself) “It would actually be a good idea to see if facing off with the thing could end the loop. It might break down the logic that the dream is built on.” (pause) “You know, I think I’m going to try and start looking into Lucid Dreaming. I'll talk to Sandra about it and see what they know. That, and, well I guess I could try and organize a more efficient work schedule. Either way, only time will tell. For now, I think that’s all. Um. Goodnight.” (sigh) “I hope.” [AUDIO RECORDER CLICKS OFF] END OF EPISODE