I'm losing this one even as I type. Up in some mountain area, rural, cabins, right next to some very large lake. We're making a film. Gary Sinise is directing. Beautiful weather, heavy woods, gorgeous. Some six of us in the film. No idea what it's about - some sort of drama.

Warnings are issued to us. Since we film mostly at night, beware of the many ghosts that haunt the trails. Never walk alone, and if we must, take a sword and constantly hack at the air before you. Director shows us how, and severs a ghost's head, which looks like a rubbery Halloween mask of a zombie. He picks it up, and emphasises how important this is.

We memorize the lines from the scripts momements before we are to act them out. Director has a large, hand held camera. We're going to film this one scene in this ruined cabin, so this beautiful woman and I go out to collect material to fix the roof. I jog off to find her where she's working - cutting up logs, massive sheets of cardboard, etc in a small clearing which I reach by running down this narrow path through some underbrush, swinging my sword as I go.

She's very tall, very strong looking, beautiful with striking features. Athletic. We decide to take a particularly large sheet of cardboard, and opt for swimming back in the lake, dragging the cardboard behind us. Things change slightly, and the lake becomes this beautiful sapphire sea, the waters practically luminous under the blazing sun. She strips and swims naked - I follow suit. Yet somehow she able to simply rise to the surface of the water and simply sit on it, legs outstretched, while I have to swim.

I attempt to follow her, but feel myself being pulled to one side, unable to keep up as she begins to drift away. I call out, yell that she must be on a current I've slipped out of, and she turns, swims towards me - I find a leathery rope or tentacle has wrapped around my ankle and is pulling me away - she cuts it and we swim back to the film shoot.

Night again. We're all dressed in many layers, looking for Abercrombie and Fitch. We're filming a scene where I have to walk past this guy and shove him - the Director tells me this, but for some reason I've not memorized any of the lines, and everybody else is ready. Can't waste time. Panicking, I walk out, filn rolling, and push the guy lightly on the shoulder with my hand, moving past him. I know I've pushed him wrong - director wanted a hard shoulder shove. He cuts filming, explains. Ah... ok. I get it. One sec.

I run back into the cabin, search for my script. Where is it? Missing. Fuck! I ask one of the other actors for theres, but for some reason they've copied their's out on a large piece of slashed up plastic raincoat which is all bent over and placed outside. He gets it, everybody notices, director is moving the set about a little, I begin to feverishly read my lines. I have to say something like:

"What are you looking at? Jonny Torributo, you some ridiculous hack from 1979..." There were another four sentances, but even what I just typed is wrong. I would see the words in my dream, and be unable to retain them when I tried to recite them. I'd look back, same words, no memory later. People start hissing at me to go out there.

Just then, an argument starts to brew. The other actors are seated at this old picnic table, and the athletic girl starts raising her voice, accusing the director of having done something in the past. The director starts defending himself, shocked, and I hear things like, 'You were responsible' and 'Six dead' and the like. One of the guys, angry, says loudly, 'He's the principal - if he says drop it, drop it.' I'm ecstatic. Argue more! Give me time to memorize my lines! Keep going!

(There was much more before this one, and between these scenes. Long dream, most of it gone now. Ah well.)