AFF 2011: Day 0 -- I Have A Dream

Before I embark on what might well end up an aborted attempt to blog my way through a replay of my 2011 Austin Film Festival (AFF) experiences, I think I'll share a dream I had the night before the conference opened. It was Wednesday night, I'd already checked in and had my credentials and IDs and invites and such, had already had some beers in the Driskill, had already had multiple way-cool screenwriterly experiences as part of this year's conference, and already had good times catching up with far-flung friends whom I only get to see maybe once a year at this specific event. So by all rights, I was surely "in a good place," mentally speaking, right?

No, fair reader -- with my brain, no such assumption is ever safe or well-founded.

I doze off to cerveza-stoked slumber in the Stephen F Austin hotel, and somewhere between 4:30am and wakeup time around 7am, I had a dream.

I see the main Ballroom of the Driskill Hotel, the room where many of the biggest and most popular panels in the conference always get booked. It usually seats several hundred guests, but in the dream, it's empty, save for one chair set alone, by itself, in the middle of the huge quiet room.

I'm in the chair, in my cargo shorts and t-shirt, backpack hung from one knee, notepad on my other leg, as I wait to take notes.

On the stage... maybe a dozen panelists -- all the usual suspects of name writers who I've met at Austin and in most cases developed some slight relationship with. I recall seeing Dan Petrie, Terry Rossio, John August, Lawrence Kasdan, Craig Mazin, Shane Black, as well as maybe a half dozen other faces which now are just gray shadows in memory. They are all just sitting there in their tall director's chairs, look down at me well back in the huge room. Some have their arms crossed and have that stern not entirely pleased expression I recall from way too many "talks with the professor" in college.

I recall glancing at my watch in the dream, as if I am anxious about starting whatever it is which is supposed to be going on, and then Petrie leans forward to his microphone:

               DAN PETRIE
     So, Brett... WHY are you still out there? Why
     aren't you up here on this side of the mike?

               BRETT
     I... I dunno.

               TERRY ROSSIO
     It's not really a question of not knowing
     something. We've told you -- all of us --
     more than enough for you to figure this out.
     What's the problem?

               BRETT
     I... I dunno.

               SHANE BLACK
     Jesus Christ, man. Just fucking do it,
     already. Look around you!

I recall looking around the room, as instructed, and recall seeing a lot of open space and nobody else.

And then I wake up.

And I rub my eyes, and I mumble something like "thanks a lot, God. Hell of a dream to drop on me the night before the conference kicks off."

I'd offer that perhaps this last lament was perhaps heard, as I feel I was offered a "make up call" later in the conference, but offering details about that here would be *spoilers*.

Still. This dream struck me as a rather harsh and sadistic fantasy to hose into someone's subconscious at such an ostensibly propitious moment.

At the minimum, somebody owes me a damned fruit cup.
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AFF 2011: a streaming retrospective overview

Running late... Thomas!... Driskill! Our home for the next 5 days... "Where are you?" Driskill! ... LORI!... "Those shoes are getting to me..." chicken tacos at El Arroyo... "I think Neil Young's dad is on bass..." ... beer tastes better with second-hand smoke... "I wish I'd worn *my* Porter Waggoner shirt..." ...the Drakes are cool... Driskill!... Kasdan in the hizzy... a beer? Well, if you insist... Lauren, Lisa, Jennie, Deborah, Jolly, Julie, Maya, Jacqueline, Max... Alvaro... Mazin... Turman... TR on the sofa, explaining Disney v. Lone Ranger et al... "Maybe it's a hematoma..."...aaa goodnight, Missus Wiznowitz... Stephen F Austin lobby at 3:30am is kinda quiet... up at 7:12am, 3 minutes ahead of alarm... where's cute triathlete barista girl???... mmmmm...Clif bar.... "where did you find that banana?"... mistaken for a person of relevance... the Isaac Newton Sandwich... Shane and Larry open the conference... talking about COOKIE'S FORTUNE with Anne Rapp before Kasdan comes in... Kasdan smiles, comes over to hug Anne, notices me, says "you're with HIM? Oh shit..." ... Driskill!... Richard! Derek!... beer me... Ramesh!... "Wow, that's a cute girl... that's a VERY cute girl... she's smiling... she's waving... at ME? Is that...? Huh? BLAIR!?! I smell t-r-o-u-b-l-e..." Stage Bar on 6th... very cool blues trio with two kids on bass and guitar and dad on drums... "'Crab puffs'? If you say so, man..." PAMIE!... "Zulauf sounds like a good Texan name..." CHRISTINA!... "are you interested in a u-rangotang movie?" cake shots are better than expected... "Drink beer? Well, on occasion..." ... Brian Anderson and Chuck Fitzpatrick... street pizza... Driskill!... "Well, OK, I'll have a beer..." ... finding a wayward Kasdan somewhere on Lavaca: "Shit -- just follow Brett. He's headed to a party somewhere...." ... Dulce is way too beautiful to be that alone... "Do you ever smile?" ... Max doesn't recognize me... Theresa and Holly and Jojo and Nancy... Howard Rodman might be Ed Wynn in non-disguise... Vivi wants pictures... NATALIE!... walking Congress at 2am... Stephen F Austin lobby at 3am is still kinda quiet.... up at 7:10am, 5 minutes before the alarm... free coffee sometimes is not worth the price... 31 never-noticed incoming messages on Facebook, dating back 18 months? Huh?... Alec Berg and Craig Mazin should tour together... "wrapped in the delicious bacon of failure..." ... Talbott, Brucks, and McCreery... the Big Vito at Jimmy Johns... Kasdan, Mazin, Petrie and Reese, oh my.... Driskill!... boots and jeans for the BBQ... "where did Julie Howe go...?" into the French Legation, and there's a THUNDER SOUL poster front and center.... two ambers, please... Salt Lick! ... nom nom nom nom... James Hart likes his 'Q... Tony!... Eilis! ... Big Red in bottles!... PAMIE!... "It's like riding a bike -- it's even more embarrassing to wipe out in front of friends when they all know you know how to do it...." ... RUM DIARY scene is already a zoo... Johnny Depp in the eye of the meat-storm... I am the dill pickle spear in a club sandwich of way-hawtness... Driskill!... stereo twin Jasons... "Wait-- you're the dead cat tree guy!?!" ... to Ruth's Chris, aka, the worst party venue they always seem to use... clinking drinks with Kasdan... Rick Dugdale sans Petrie... Lauren and Stephen... Dulce!... Max still doesn't recognize me.... "Did I wind up with another of your women?" "S'alright -- I have plenty more..." ... Driskill! Max does a spit take when she recognizes me... John Lasseter eating a cheeseburger underneath Humperdink.... "A beer? Well, alright..." ... elbowing past James Franco in the men's room doorway... Shane reads this stuff? WHO NEEDS MORE PRESSURE? ... last call... banana and decaff in the SFA lobby at 3am, as movie deals get done at the adjacent sofa... up at 7am, 15 minutes before the alarm, and once more into the breach... packed like canned hams into the FIGHT CLUB read-along w/ Palahniuk and Uhls... Buffalo wants a cavity search? We're out... fish tacos at the Irish pub... Ronson? No way... Confirmed -- Ronson... scaring Carl and Bethany... hanging with Blair in the 1886... cash bar? screw that! ... Driskill! ... Ags win! ... hanging with Chuck... talking with Theresa... Rossio slams via praise... are we going? it's time. come on -- let's go!... whoa-- that's the line? No way. Back to base... Driskill!... Arndt and Rossio talk writing for hours -- crazy awesome to watch... Jill!... Last call? Seriously? ... SFA lobby at 3:15am is pretty wild on a Saturday night.... up at 7:15am -- go to hell, alarm... load it up, pack it out... The Secret Garage... breakfast tacos at The Hideout... Dulce is again too beautiful.... lemonade with maple syrup? Wow.... rewrite panel with Rossio, and a pat on the head worth more than all the gold in California... to SFA ballroom with TR, Jolly Lauren, Deb, Lisa, Brian, and T-Crymes for the epic Michael Arndt "Endings" panel... sweet jesus this is good stuff Arndt is giving... Crymes to the shuttle, Lisa to the cab -- the exodus has begun... "And... I think we're all done" ... Driskill! ... Hanging out, shaking hands, swapping hugs ... talking the past, as we finally enter THE SUCK ... "OK, I think it's now officially Last Day..." ... a flurry of texts, a final hug, and we're out the door... long road home, with no music, no sound. Just thoughts... in the driveway, scrawled in huge glow in the dark chalk letters: "WELCOME HOME, DAD!" One last sigh, turn the knob, and then step back into the real world for another 361 days, 8 hours, 4 minutes, and 31... 30... 29... 28....