Land of the Dead

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Wednesday night I couldn’t sleep.

This is a highly unusual condition in me, but I decided to roll with it and got up, turned on the godamned-noisy-box, plugged in the headphones, and watched Romero’s “Land of the Dead” for the first time.

I know there’s something about the way we compulsively keep making zombie flicks that says something about humans and their almost unconscious awareness of the wetiko virus. It’s as if we know what ails us, but the only way to bypass the system and show it to ourselves is in the supposed fantasy of the theatre.

There’s one scene pretty close to the end of this movie, where the undead are gathered outside the tall glassed entrance to the foyer of a building housing most of the unzombied, which made me pay a little closer attention. For the scene -minus the zombies – reminded me strongly of many dreams I have had of the City at Night. Tall, glass-fronted buildings with blackness outside – blackness illuminated only by the light streaming from the building’s interior. Classic dream vision of the soul.

Anyway, the undead manage eventually – quite quickly, really – to break through the glass and advance upon the hapless inhabitants, chowing them in a virulent show of wetiko.

And the dreamlike nature of reality forced itself once more to the forefront of my consciousness – that night and for a couple of days thereafter – so that I was really seeing the dream, the edge we all walk, and the workings of the wetiko virus within our non-local minds.

Mercury Retrograde has more-or-less come to an end. You can tell.

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