It doesn’t take long into Nightdreams to realize it profoundly inspired Andrew Blake’s late-night cable staple Night Trips (1989). While Blake’s film has the dreamlike, soft-focused texture of an ‘80s Calvin Klein commercial, Delia’s fourth-wall-breaking film is downright nightmarish in comparison.
I never expected to be caught off guard by a jump-scare in a Golden Age flick, but here we are. And that Jack-in-the-Box isn’t even the craziest thing you’ll see in this movie.
Carrying the feature is Dorothy LeMay (Talk Dirty to Me, Champagne for Breakfast), who calls out the viewer as voyeur from the film’s first moments. I’m not sure how many times a film was centered on her, but LeMay is incredible as a psychiatric patient whose sexual psychosis is being monitored (or something — it doesn’t matter) by doctors Jennifer West and Andy Nichols (who appeared in Café Flesh and Chuck Vincent’s mainstream stuff). The scientific team have the only level-headed dialogue in the whole film:
"This woman's on the brink of an orgasm. Let her enjoy it. She doesn't need interruption from a man."
Nightdreams is broken down into a series of fantastical music video vignettes taking place in LeMay’s noggin’. The aforementioned Jack-in-the-box sequence, the cowgirl threesome set to Wall of Voodoo’s dirge-synth/industrial cover of “Ring of Fire,” some thing about a fish, a trip to Hell where Satan says things like: “Pain? You want to know what pain is? Pain is not having your own cable outlet when you want to tell all those slime that live up there what life is all about.”
We’re then reminded of porn’s complicated history with racial stereotypes, as LeMay takes on an anthropomorphic box of Cream of Wheat, when in walks a… man in a sliced Wonder Bread costume. He doesn’t join in, as one would expect in a film like this. He instead plays a sax solo along to the Ink Spots cover of “Ol’ Man River” that’s been running through the entire segment. Glean some social commentary from this if you will (not sure if that was their intention), but it comes across as grotesque and dull, as these things tend to be.
The final scene is a “ballet” sequence featuring LeMay, Kevin James (who kinda reminds me of Steven Bauer here) and set to Débussy. It’s tonally different from the rest of the film, airing on light and fluffy, like a feminine hygiene commercial, compared to what preceded it.
This is the first film written by Steven Sayadian (here billed under nom de porn Rinse Dream), who directed Cafe Flesh (1982) and Dr. Caligari (1989). Jerry Stahl is involved here, too, five or six years before he’d be the head writer on ALF.
The Three Stooges get a producer’s thanks in the credits.
Let’s ponder over this question for some time today.
Unfulfillment?
Subconscious mind on a ride?
Association and strengthening of memories?
Side effects of your brain replaying daily events?
Expression of your deep desires and fantasies?
Your self looking for solutions to complex issues?
Unfulfilled day seeking completion?
What are they?
Do they mean anything?
We associate dreams with two things: one, dreams that we dream at night, our nightly motion pictures inside our minds, and second, our goals, desires, or fantasies. Today we are referring to the dreams of the night (and of the day—commonly known as daydreaming.)
Let us read a definition of dreams, and then we will dissect that definition to understand the meaning.
“A dream is a succession of images, ideas, emotions, and sensations that usually occur involuntarily in mind during certain stages of sleep,” as described by Wikipedia. The sources also mention: “Humans spend about 2 hours dreaming per night, and each dream lasts around 5 to 20 minutes, although the dreamer may perceive the dream much longer than this.”
Now, let’s pay attention to this extended definition mentioned here. Take pauses at specific steps to go deeper and understand what it means.
First, the definition talks about the movement of dreams as involuntary. It means conscious dreaming is primarily out of our control, it’s possible with training, but it happens on its own.
Second, we read that although dreams last shorter, the dreamer may perceive them longer. In dreams, we go beyond time or our usual daytime timescale. Time ceases to be or runs more slowly, taking a new speed and meaning altogether. You may get smitten by someone, propose, or go on several dates together before you decide to get married. Then you finally do, only to find a couple of years later that things didn’t quite work out as they were supposed to, so you get separated, feeling guilty of your doing all the while. All of this, a life full of agony and ecstasy lived in a matter of few mins, with your dream girl or dream boy deep inside a dream.
Isn’t it interesting?
The point to note is that there is a place or a dimension where we are beyond time. We transcend our boundaries. If it happens in dreams, we can jump out of it by will if we desire to. More importantly, time is relative. It’s not absolute, as it appears in our daily waking life.
The third and final point is: the definition talks of a “dreamer” dreaming the dream. The dreamer is not the dream. The dream is something outside of the dreamer. The dream is separate, and it’s not you. Not only is it a false play of your mind, but it is also different from you. Your existence is not a dream. Both are separate phenomena. That means you can easily unhook yourself from the dream if you desire.