113. I Dream of Coppola

In my dream I’m with Coppola.

We’re in a small room with a broken, brick floor.

He’s painting it blue.

He’s 85.

I’ll paint the floor.

I take the brush.

I start to paint it blue.

Light blueb

The room’s dark.

Like his eyebrows.

Let me take a selfie, I say.

I sit beside him, try to take a selfie but its awkward.

Which button do I press?

He gets uncomfortable.

I can’t find the button.

Cant take the selfie.

I cant work the camera.

He must think I’m an idiot.

Coppola.

He must lose all hope in me.

My brother, the photographer, he would shake his head.

Cant take a selfie with his favourite director.

My favourite director…

Becuz of Rumble Fish.

And The Outsiders.

My favourite novels as a teen.

My favourite films hands down.

And now, here I am, with Coppola, and I can’t even work out how to take a selfie.

I’m an actor.

I’m not a camera man.

Technophobe.

Leave the camera to Coppola.

Author: Mark Dark

Actor turned Christian missionary turns his back on his Hollywood dreams to combat sex trafficking in Cambodia – and finds himself tangled up in gang culture and a surreal internal world of drugs psychosis. Based on true events.