What a tale my thoughts could tell.
You wake up. You’re in my mind. It’s 1971, early 1971. It feels like January. You look about; you are outside of what appears to be a castle. Glancing to your right, you notice an old well. It intrigues you. Its made of brick and has one of those wooden buckets tied to the top. Suddenly, goose flesh covers your body… you notice a ghost hovering above the well.
You are now inside the castle. You hear what you believe to be an old-time movie playing in one of the rooms. You can’t quite make it out, but it seems old-timey. You are now in shackles in a dark room within the depths of the castle. The shackles are fastened to your ankles; they have cut into your flesh from struggling to escape.
You have now transformed into the ghost you saw earlier, the one by the well. As the ghost, you see an old man reading a paperback book. You catch a glimpse of the cover; you figure it to be a mystery novel. You don’t believe it to be a sappy novel because, hey, this old man looks too cool for sap. You start to think, “Maybe this guy does like sap, I mean he could be Canadian. Maybe he’ll make some syrup.”
Oh shit, you’re now acting in a movie. You are one of three actors performing a script. You aren’t ready for this scene. Fuck! You just got burned by one of the other actors… you walk away in disgust. Looking down at the script, you read “Enter number two”.