A recent dream:
It is night. I am in a basement. Two men and a woman are seated at a nearby table and seem to be making a plan of some sort. I approach the table and recognize them: it’s Donna Hayward, James Hurley, and FBI Special Agent Dale Cooper. I’m in an episode of Twin Peaks.
Recalling all the horrific things that happen to various people in the show and Lynch’s penchant for the occasional bit of random violence, I try to figure out when I am in the series. Based on the discussion Coop, Donna and James are having, it seems early in the first season. That means there’s still time to avoid being jailed, getting drawn into a love triangle or paternity battle, having my hair turn white overnight, being drugged with heroin, being imprisoned in a Canadian brothel, hanging myself in my shut-in trailer, getting shot, getting my eye shot out on my honeymoon, losing the last twenty years of my memory, disappearing into thin air, getting an arm cut off, dying of fright, watching the love of my life die of fright, having my soul trapped in a dresser drawer knob, having my soul trapped in a log, being burned alive in a sawmill, being blown up by my archrival who faked his own death, having my head smashed into a picture frame, having my head smashed into the door of a jail cell, having my head smashed onto the corner of a coffee table, being shot with a crossbow while dressed as a giant papier-mâché chess piece, being rendered invalid/tortured by a criminal mastermind/left to die under a cage of poisonous spiders, and being abducted by demons or aliens or whatever.
As they get up to leave, I pull Cooper aside– he’s willing to believe in the supernatural, the irrational, the magical– if anyone will listen to me, it’s him. I ask him if he ever watches TV, and when he does, if he ever imagines how he’d react to situations in the show. Would he act differently than the characters did, knowing how the show turns out? He says he does and would.
I say, what if I told you that that is happening to me right now— that all this is a TV show and I’ve seen it. What if I told you that I know who the killer is, and I can stop all kinds of horrors from happening?
He looks at me quizzically and turns away to take his trench coat off a coatrack.
And then I hit him with the clincher: what if I told you that Windom Earle is coming to town and I know exactly what he’s going to do? How would you react?
Cooper turns back to me. His eyes are glazed completely white.
My jaw drops.
He smiles and says, “Good question.”
He walks up the stairs. James and Donna follow him up. I follow them. Cooper and James walk through the door at the top of the stairs, but I grab Donna and hold her back for a second. I can’t tell in the poor lighting whether her eyes are white.
I ask Donna if she noticed anything strange about Coop. She says no. I ask her if he notices anything strange about me. She asks me what I mean. I ask her if my eyes are white.
She leans in. She looks into my eyes for what seems like forever. She pulls back and says it’s too dark to tell. She turns and walks through the door.