Seance
after Guy Maddin
She recalled the dream with unique clarity. The kind of which she could easily recall and imitate, both in movement and speech. Dreams are beyond the bounds of reality, and even more beyond what would be called “surrealist.” It makes sense that the eccentricities stand out the most in one’s memory. Even still, it felt so real to her.
The dreamer recognized the faces, the voices, and the setting as if they were linked to her friends and family. Unlike them, these were figures she was familiar with through pictures. Twenty-four frames, not a face-to-face encounter. For a brief moment in her state of rest, it was close enough to the latter. The images were that powerful.
It started with her watching Katharine Hepburn through a large television screen. Kathy was wearing a white gown, walking in that famous steadfast way, and clutching a candelabra. The dreamer couldn’t place any role she’s seen Hepburn in where this shot came up, nor did she ever see her with the handsome co-star who came into frame: Henry Fonda. She can strike out the chance of it being her remembering a scene.
The two did share the screen once, but that was when they were many decades old, and Henry wouldn’t live to see another screen a year after it was presented to the world. The two were youthful in this dream, and appeared to be very much mystified by the other. They shared a gaze she was familiar with. A look that had been on her own face, and those of strangers in the many dark theaters she’s been in. The stare of pure wonder.
Whatever words the stars spoke to each other were unintelligible. Something told her it might have been about royal intrigue, but that’s owed to the refined way Kathy spoke. Even when no words could be made out, her cadence came through. Her look towards Henry became more welcoming; his turned serious. They kept speaking about something, and every shot-reverse shot cut loomed over them like it was a higher power or third party in the lavish phony mansion they performed in. Dreams and the camera could do what the human eye couldn’t when it comes to witnessing beauty, and that comes from being detached from the human.
Then the screen went dark, as did the room she was in. The stillness of the dream became eerie for a moment, then she heard approaching footsteps. Katharine Hepburn was now in her room, as monochrome as she was in the film and in the same gown, like a ghost pulled right from the other plane where the real Hepburn remain. The actress barely acknowledged the dreamer’s presence as she went to serve herself a drink from the bar — the same bar in the film. The room was now becoming the set in the imaginary film. Everything that the camera didn’t show yet was shrouded in shadow until Kathy walked over to those space, candelabra in hand. It didn’t exist when it wasn’t being looked at. Just like the audience, and the dreamer.
She awoke at this point, getting herself some water and a bathroom break. It was still late at night, but she didn’t wish to return to bed right away. The dream was so vivid that she considered writing it all down, but she found herself at a loss for words from it. As hard as she tried, it couldn’t do what she saw justice. Best to keep it strong in the back of her mind until the morning, and that’s just what she did when she arrived on set. She told her cast and crew about her dream, explaining in short words, making it sound sloppy as it was interesting to them. Whether or not they understood it all, the dreamer gave them their one direction.
“I saw those ghosts last night,” she said. “I want you guys to bring those ghosts here today. We’re going to perform our own little seance in the studio.”
The crew set up, her actors got into place, and she called “action” when preparations were done. The end result made her cry with joy. As imperfect as it was, it still reminded her why she was glad to dream.
