The surrealist horror film Dr. Caligari (1989), featuring erotic actresses such as Madeleine Reynal and Laura Albert, is a neon-and-plastic, sex-infused nightmare oddity belched up from the fetid guts of the late Reagan era, a videocassette relic of the bygone days of little corner stores peddling cheap, direct-to-VHS "grand guinol" for the eager lines of bored, potato chip munching thrill seekers.
The old saying, "a dream come true" seems rather trite or hackneyed; but, in the weird world of the annals of the psychic, such occurrences DO in fact happen; dreams DO come true. And with startling regularity.
Who planted this particular beanstalk? / I wonder,
The Wild West was painted, for me, in old-time Technicolor strips of
Against the fallen snow, an incarnation of beauty stands tall. The hissing of death, and the muted rounds of music make to ascend, like a risen ghost, the trembling, the cherished form. Wounds of scarlet and black erupt across the surface of the superb skin. All the proper colors of life darken and deepen, clear and break free, circling about as the vision is constructed.
Urban legends circulate at work, on bulletin boards, and across the internet, in our modern age, via "creepy pasta" postings. ALL of them, some argue, are horror stories, whether or not they make us laugh, cringe, shriek, giggle or shudder in fright. After all, their timeless, anonymous "It Could Happen to You" quality makes us feel, indeed, "It Could Happen to ME!" And so it could, Dear Reader, IF, indeed, any of these stories had a basis in fact. (Some might, but that is another topic.)