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by Edd Vick

Annette Prescott shares her dreams. All performers do these days. Most sign up with the majors, some distribute through the smaller indies, a few post them on their websites. Little dreams--ones about flying or eating a scone--those are often free. It's the big dreams that cost, particularly the ones about acting or dancing or singing.

Annette has a YouDream account. She gives all of her dreams away for free. Sure, they're lo-res, but the pure thing. One where she's young and this looming parental figure forces her to practice violin until her fingers bleed. One where she's in a high school play and walks onstage naked by mistake. One where her voice instructor tells her she'll never amount to anything. One from her first speaking part in a movie where she almost flubs a line but ad libs a better one and they use it. One walking down that red carpet, everybody cheering.

Dreams. Some are horrific. Some are wonderful.

I take them straight, just plug in, drop off, and daydream. I've watched some of them so many times that they play again and again in my own dreams at night.

I've seen some of the mashups, like the guy who matched the visuals from her "Riding the Blue Horse" to that song "Superstition" by Stevie Wonder. Or the one where somebody spliced together one of her dreams with one of Bambi Alexander's, and it's like they're having a conversation in the bathtub. Or that sick one where somebody cut together all the nude bits with images of... never mind, I don't even want to think about it.

Like most people, I record my dreams, too, but I don't post them anywhere. I had this one with Annette in it last week, and I've reviewed it a few times since then. It's pretty good, nice colors and it has a plotline and all. I thought about sending it to her on a chip, or posting it on her fansite's forum. It would suck, though, if everybody thought I was a stalker, or even just one of those people everybody else laughs at.

But I can dream.

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