Keeping Score

Nostramos

So I had the most bizarre dream this morning. I know what you're thinking already: holy crap he's going to talk about some dream where the trees are talking to him and then this rabbit turns into a fairy and tells him the secret of the universe. Get me the hell outta here!

It's nothing like that. It was like watching a movie, starring Steve McQueen. My lack of movie history has him associated in my head with the Rat Pack, so the movie took place sometime between the Rat Pack era and say, Kelly's Heroes.

McQueen is dressed kinda like The Transporter, with the black suit and the unbuttoned white shirt, and I'm with him for some reason (although I think I was more of a sentient "camera" than an actual character). He had some sort of selective amnesia caused by a recent car accident, and was having troubling, secretive ::nudge nudge wink wink:: conversations with complete strangers about "the club." He found this odd, since he was a movie super-star, and didn't know why people were talking about this "club" in some secretive fashion. Eventually, we stumble across this giant house in the middle of a sparse rural farming area. As it turns out, we had been looking for this house for some time; it was the main plot-point in the movie, and we had finally found it. This was obviously "the club."

We go inside, and there was no one there. It's almost like a museum inside. There's signs that it was intended for someone to live there: furniture, pots and pans, etc., but obviously, no one's home. Oddly, we can't seem to find any way to access the second floor. McQueen seems to remember a secret elevator in the back of a closet somewhere, and we both manage to squeeze inside of it. It's not an ordinary elevator; it's made out of plywood, and it's apparent that it's home-made. The elevator arrives at the second floor, and it looks like we're staring at a wall, only it's not a wall; it's a hallway that's only a foot wide, running perpendicular to the opening of the "elevator." As we make our way down this narrow hallway, it opens up into a receiving room, which is hand-painted in that primitive southern art style, much like House of Blues is. On the wall among the primitive artwork is written the following in ominous hand painted letters:

Are you one of these seven people?:

Nostramos

Franky

Capanera

[four other names I can't remember]

If not, you shouldn't be here.

We hear the commotion of a party coming from the room off of the receiving room, and upon entering, it has become obvious to us that we've found "The Club." It's a sex and drugs club. There's people having sex on beds everywhere. Hetero, Homo, Pedo. It was extremely disgusting and debaucherous. Steve and I both look around the room, and share a knowing thought: there's more than seven people in this room. These people aren't any of the seven written on the wall. There must be more to the club.

Then I woke up as we were heading outside and a pilot in a biplane/cropduster (it farm country, after all) started strafing us. He kept yelling that the secret to the club was in McQueen's yearbook, and threw one out the plane at him as he flew off. McQueen thumbed through, found a picture in the yearbook which had a photo of the house in it, and realized that there was a secret entrance in the rear which led to the hidden basement level which was just big enough for one person at a time to squeeze through painfully; almost as if it were designed by kids.

As I became awake, it dawned on me what the end of the story is: a bunch of movie super-star buddies had made this club back when they were all friends in high school. It was built on the property of someone's Grandparents, who were long since dead. As time wore on, the kids did more and more outrageous things at the farm, and after they had all grown up and become famous movie stars, they used it as a retreat to go do depraved things at, far away from the eyes of the media. Drugs, sex, and eventually, murder. We find that all of the people upstairs are "guests" of the members, and are going to be unwittingly killed rather than allowed to return to the world with their secrets. I'm sure that we would have found the other members of the club in the basement, along with the secrets the club held.

The members would have addressed Steve as Nostramos, the founder of the club, and then McQueen in his shocked horror would have been forced to kill them all in his newfound, amnesia induced moral rage.