Cinema Paradiso in Quatar

(unedited)
I had just finished putting the final touches on the screening - made sure the popcorn machine was full, each seat had a program, the ticket takers were ready, the projectionist was all cued up and that the brothers were not falling apart from the stress and excitement.

The scene was in an old movie theater in Quatar. It had been raining all afternoon but the dusk brought back the warm weather, but the dampness filtered through the old cushions that had not been sit on in over 20 years. People milled about outside, their chatter sounding like a cacaphony of electric typewriters in an empty room. I was thrilled - because of my intervention, the cinema would re-open to its once former glory, if only for a night.

It seemed as if the inside were outside - almost like a drive in. The brothers helped take tickets at the door while friends and family ushered in the audience. A drive-in-like intermission trailer played in the background

(imagine a middle eastern intermission trailer. Hummus anybody?)

The next thing I remember was getting ready to go home.

It was already morning and E had come to pick me up. I met him outside and introduced him to the people in the little town. All the guys called me beauty - a term of endearment like the north american "sweetheart" - loving and endearing like. They all loved me - I helped a sad isolated neighborhood find the joy and pleasure of cinema again - a communal celebration of imagination and sound.

The brothers gave me a huge hug, happy but sad at the same time. Their paradoxical expressions made my heart break, while at the same time stray fragments soared. My mission was complete - for them and for me. We had both achieved what we set out to do and more, which is always a blessing. They escorted me and E to the car and waved goodbye. Small children ran behind - touching the trunk and singing as we drove into the dusty road.

20 minutes into the trip we motored through the downtown core - looked a lot like Detroit: sandstone art deco buildings devoid of any activity, with the odd group of people walking by or smoking together. Around the corner of what looked like a bank, a film was being shot. A huge crane hoisted the female camerawoman as she pointed to the crew and actors to follow her directions. Huge 10K spots shone into the windows as the bed sheet sized pieces of ND 1 gels flapped in the desert wind.

I made it happen and now they have cinema.

I was so very happy and so very proud.

Over the bridge, the road became lined with lush foliage and huge trees that hung over our path; the kind of road that you find in the foothills of Vermont, so very tranquil. On the left was a lake which ran alongside the road, on the right, a meadow. The sun was later than mid-day high, portrait lighting the leaves and branches. The deeper we drove into this road the more bizarre it became.

On the left - people swam with fishes, mostly tropical - brightly colored and huge. The water was a delicate turquoise but clear as glass. Imagine being inside of an aquarium - without any sides or bottom - the water was magically suspended neatly on the side. The right side now became Central park-ish where families pushed baby carriages, joggers strode by with their ipods and old couples played card games on benches.

about 8 minutes into the ride (not as short as five, but less than 10) the water level dropped and evened out to the right side in terms of greenery, but the fishes were now floating in the middle of the road towards us! Schools of striped fishes, long fishes, neon fishes! It was insane!! While looking on my right, I exclaimed: "look at that huge ferret! He must be 20 feet long!" and there slung between the branches, a thin furry eel-like animal basking in the sun.

But what killed me was the fishes - floating in mid air. No, swimming in mid air!

And what was even more bizarre is that E had a similar dream - being on a bridge that was not really a bridge but was made of water. I was riding through it in an SUV without any second thought until he said: "You can't do that! We are driving on water!"

I guess we must have hear the humidifier run at the same time during the early morning



Perhaps my dream was a reaction to my feeling last night of the realization that with everything going on in my life, and my financial status, I might not be able to make my feature film like I had always dreamed of.

Will it always remain only a dream or will it ever come true?