The Dream of A Book - Manuscript for the video
Chapter One: The inside of a desk drawer
There is a big, big poster rised at the southest end of sweden. The sea is in the background.
Chapter Two: The Father
(interview with my fathter)
- Dearest Father, is this your car?
- Yes, it is.
- Why do you drive a red car?
- I like red, and it’s my understanding that my fellow drivers can see me better and that there’s therefore less chance of having an accident. You discover one another and reduce the chance of crashing. You are always exposed to danger when you’re out on the road. So far it’s gone well, and I haven’t crashed in… well, so long that I can’t remember the last time.
- Have you always driven a red cars?
- No, but I’ve driven a red cars for the last 15 years. I’ve driven red Volvos for the last 15 years.
- Have you ever had any other color, and if so, what color was it?
- I’ve had a grey one. It was my first car. And then I had a black one, and that was a Volvo, too. And after the black one, I got a white Amazon, a 122S. I was so proud of it. It was almost brand new. I bought that one in 1965. And then I had a Red Volvo Amazon. And in 1976 we bought a brand new car—a Volvo, of course, and we kept that one until 1982. Then we bought another new car, and that one was a Volvo, too, even though it was a little bit… I can’t remember the name of the color. It was brownish… the color had a particular name, but I don’t remember it. Mom got that one later. And after that I bought a red Amazon. And then I got a car from work—in 1985—and that was a white Volvo, of course!
- HOW WAS IT TO DRIVE A WHITE CAR INSTEAD OF A REEED ONE?!?!
- Well, it was pretty good, too, but then in 1990 I started to—then I got my next car from work, it was a red 740, and after that I’ve only had red cars.
- And then I like red. I got attention… One time I was out driving in Brösarp and I almost crashed. I was on my way home from Brösarp—or maybe it was Tomellilla. And then in Brösarp I almost crashed. I think that’s when I decided I should have a red car so I would be more visible. There was a car at a stop sign in Brösarp that pulled out in front of me, and it was just lucky that I avoided a head-on collision. After that I’ve stuck with red cars.
- Was it winter when it happened?
- Nah, it wasn’t winter; the roads were clear. No, it was in the spring, ‘cause I know I had winter tires with nubs on them. When I braked, it was as if the car had snow shoes on: it just slid on the nubs. After that I haven’t used tires with nubs either. I’ve driven nub-less ever since.
Chapter 4: The Lover
- I’ve eaten an entire book? And it was a terrible book to eat? And you could’ve made a book of all the letters you wrote me? I ate one page and ripped up a couple others? Think of Little Red Riding Hood, who didn’t have even a comma or an exclamation point to eat—and you spend so much time writing.
- To the world we slaughter: I shall write a book. I’ll get you pearls. I’ll write letters. I’ll build writing desks. I’ll ship them. I’ll shove off. I’ll lie on you. I’ll lay my hand down. I’ll start with a war. A triumph will follow. The inner war has no meaning here. The difference is interesting. Have you put them aside, your crazy thoughts and dreams? I had no other education. I dreamt of the army.
Chapter Three: Little Red Riding Hood
- I was so beautiful. No one—no one could resist me.
- I said, “What long stories you´re telling.”
- Then I said, “What big books you have.”
- I was compelled to take off all my clothes.
- I don’t have a problem with being naked.
- Don’t sell yourself with a cheap confession.
- Who said that again? I forget.
- Who cares.
- I have such a bad memory.
- Damn it! I can’t even remember such a simple thing!
- Icke fö Ai.
- Whats helle uwe
- At least I don’t have any real problems.
- I feel no shame anymore.
- Everyone is so food-fixated. Everyone but me.
- They talk about food all the time.
- It’s horrifying.
- But the triumph will come.
- I’m certain of it.
- I’ll ride into the sunset like Lucky Luke.
Chapter Five: Studio Conversation
The studio conversation is in a dark studio. It’s hard to see. The publisher is a small person, who is sitting at a wooden writing desk. Everyone is there. Dad is standing behind the desk, Little Red Riding Hood is in an armchair, and the Lover is standing to the right of it.
The Publisher is wearing a large hat from Scania.
The Lover still has the pistol in his hand with his arm outstretched. With his armed outstretched he looks like a manservant—I mean a clothes-hanger.
- I love a B. I love with an O. Period, comma, words fill me with satisfaction. The coming book. This will be a book. I’ve been thinking of a few sentences for a long time. There are periods and commas. Constantly—I can’t stop the feeling. Prepositions. The letter K is the best. I love letters. Now I want a B and then I’ll enjoy an O again.
- Hmm, hmm. Yeah. Um. Um. Hmm, yeah. Yeah. Um. Um. Uhm. Yeah. Um. Um. Uhm. Yeah. Yeah. Um. Yeah. Uhm. Uhm. Yeah. Yeah.
- Are you going to start singing now? Are you?
Little Red Riding Hood is sitting in an armchair, reading a bunch of papers with letter on them. She throws them on the ground.
Little Red Riding Hood yells:
- THERE’S FOOD FOR SEVERAL DAYS HERE. IT’S ENOUGH FOR ALL OF US.
The publisher throws off his hat so that it lands and hangs on the Lover’s outstretched hand.
The Lover can’t see in the dark room, and he things that he turns towards the Father.
- May I please borrow the car? It’s late and my ferry is embarking soon. I promise to write long letters.
The Lover lowers his arm, searches for the desk, and lays the hat from Scania and the pistol there. He thinks that the book might be a novel about a mailman and a country.
Chapter Six: Studio Conversation 2
The Studio Conversation is a red pen with the words “The red dream” on it, and it turns round and round against a bit of background. The color of the background is white, and the pen is like a single clock hand. It stops at nine and then continues slowly, slowly towards eleven.
The Studio Conversation is a teacher and a student. Four white walls, a white ceiling, a grey floor and a window. The sun shines softly through the window and makes the teacher’s clothes glow slightly. He is sitting at the student’s desk.
Teacher: Close-ups. Surely you know about close-ups?
Teacher: Surely you know they’ve been done before?
Teacher: I’m sure of it?
Teacher: Maybe I don’t have anything intelligent to say?
Student: Don’t say that. Sure you do. I’ve heard you know tons about film history.
I refuse to answer all the questions about my book. I’m a vagrant, the language is a vagrant-language, everything must be redone. All the words and pictures that I dislike have been excluded. I’m sure that there’ll always be more books, all the time, it’s like there’ll never be an end to the stream of new books.
Posted by Beata Berggren