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I had a dream, yesterday, that worked like a movie, and seeing Big Fish reminded me about all the things I'd forgotten about it since waking. It was like a movie in that I saw everything unfold as it happened, but for some reason was privy to everything the main character (a young boy that I have identified as myself) was thinking. It was the strangest, most vivid dream I have ever had. But I can't help feeling like I've heard it, or seen it, before. And I wish I could just remember how it went. I know how it started, but lost the ending sometime just before I woke up:

There are five children and a bloody, disgusting, yellow-eyed horse sitting at a circular breakfast table in the garden outside a stone house. The owner, we are to understand, is a woman who goes by "The Witch." The children, and the horse, who is wearing glasses that cut his nose and is chained to the ground, are waiting to be served their breakfast. They wait for what seems like days, and the sun won't move in the sky. I am about to leave the table when a beautiful woman, dressed in white, emerges from the house. She is The Witch. She says that breakfast will be served shortly and goes back inside through the still-open door.

The freshly-cut grass is green; the dandelions are golden. There is little else of color to be seen. The stone house, the clouded sky, the faces of the four other children at the table are gray. Tall, bare trees, and the birds that fly among their branches, are black. The Witch is white. I grow impatient after waiting for another year-long day and take off in what I know is North.

I pass through the bushes separating The Witch's garden from the rest of dream world. I am in a long field, filled with what look like gigantic, deformed carrots. They are growing out of holes in the ground that, unless I'm careful, will yawn open and swallow me up to my waist. If I start running, the sun starts setting. If I stop, it stops. If I turn around and walk the other way, it rises. This works out so that when I reach the other side of the field, at which there lies a forest, the sun has set entirely and it is nighttime.

When I reach the forest, I am met by the Robot Maker. He tells me I'm right on time and says we need to get to work. He shows me a robotic dog he has made and tells me he's going to put it into battle with Colonel Eagery's robot at the Battle Pavilion (Strangely, remember, I know exactly what he is talking about: Colonel Eagery was a robot he made long ago that defected and became his enemy, putting rival robots into battle at the pavilion.). We take the dog to the top of a plateau, where it is promptly decimated by a robot that looks like the wolfman from old movies. I leave the Robot Maker on his knees, weeping over his robo-terrier, and continue onward.

North of the Battle Pavilion is a tiny village in a garden. The miniature trees and bushes are covered in thousands of miniature razor blades. The inhabitants of this little village are only about the size of my hand, and live in houses carved out of mounds in the dirt. They are not threatened by my presence and continue working diligently in their miniscule front yards. I feel a gush of wind behind me and all of the little people scatter for their houses, slamming doors and boarding up windows. I turn around to see a three-foot tornado hurdling toward the village. It has torn all of the razor blades off the trees and is tearing up the center of the path. I start running toward the other side of the clearing, but a few rogue blades tear my shirt and knick the backs of my legs before I can duck behind a tree. After the storm subsides, I glance around the side of the tree and see the little people's village in ruin.

And that's where it ends.

Peace.
-Todd