gypsy sunrise

EXT. NEW JERSEY BOARDWALK. SUNRISE.

It is a cool late spring morning.  A lone figure sits on a
bench overlooking the beach and ocean.  A man of forty-one
to be exact.  His dress and appearance is in a manner that is
close to appropriate for a homeless man.  Ripped jeans, t-
shirt, no shoes, beard.  He reaches over to find a book, and
opens it to blank pages.  Clipped onto his t-shirt he has a
pen which he grabs and places on the first blank page...ready
to write.

Just as he is about to write he is distracted by the sun
popping up in it’s trademark style of an orange sherbert ice
cream cone teasing the morning with a gentle beauty before
going on to burn another day away.

He reaches down to his boom box and presses PLAY.  The
instrumental “Cathedral” by Van Halen blares out peacefully
across the empty shore.  And as it does, the music seems to
inspire a ballet of waves, sun, sand, and seagulls... An old
couple walking by on a morning stroll...and even a middle-aged
woman, a peer to him though he can't think of himself as "middle-aged",
who stares at him for a time before running over to a friend
to point and smile, as if they are saying, "no, that can't be him".  The
Man does not notice this.

He is busy setting the scene, soundtrack and all, to inspire greatness on the
blank pages in front of him.  Every nook and cranny of what surrounds
him aches with the possibility of inspiration, but no use...His pen still does
not budge.

And his eyes appear so lost that they may as well be dead...but
then they shift slightly to see something new...and they come
to life slowly like a man waking from a twenty year coma.
He reaches over and re-starts the music called “Cathedral”,
crosses his legs, and readies to write...he writes.

Her name was Gypsy Sunrise.  Every
dream that every man ever had.  But
today she was his dream. 

Down on the beach there is a woman that is every bit the
dream he has begun to describe.  She stands next to her surf
board, wearing boy surf shorts and a bikini top. She watches
the sunrise, and as it does...the morning light sets her
aglow...

An angel, sent here to save... 

She grabs her board and leaps into the water...paddles out
past the waves...

"Or no, maybe"...

he restarts the "Cathedral" music to re-set the scene from the top.
then continues to write.

...a mermaid sent here by Posieden
himself...to make him believe that
a dream can be more than a
dream...and...

"Wow.  that sucks. How about..."

Her name was Gypsy  Sunrise.  
She was every dream that
every man ever had...but today she
was his...

"No, let’s do first  person, more personal, not gonna
hide."

today she was MY dream... 

He starts the "Cathedral" music again as “Gypsy” paddles out
to catch a wave and rides one in with the rising sun.

As if she walked straight down from
the silver screen where she was the
love interest in a buddy-cop-super
spy movie starring James Bond and
Elvis. As if Ann-Margaret gave
birth to the lesbian love-child of
Pussy Galore and Brigitte
Bardot...


He ponders this.

"Wow."

"Gypsy" comes up onto the beach from the water.

there!...she emerges from the deep
blue with the strength of an
ancient princess warrior, and the
grace of... 

She trips.

"Chevy Chase?"


He watches for a moment while “Gypsy” just lies there in the
sand by her board.  Contemplating for a second whether or not
he should go see if she is ok.  He then rises to jump over
the railing to rescue this new found dream of inspiration,
but sees a sign which reads

DO NOT WALK ON THE DUNES

so he sits back down and watches...she still just lies there.

Then he can’t take it anymore.  He runs over to the stairs half a
block down. Stops to decide if he should go down to the
beach. Then he does.  He runs to the part of the
beach where “Gypsy” lies.  As he reaches just ten feet away
from her, she starts to rise.  So he turns around to flee when...


"Hey", a voice says from behind him.

The man freezes in his tracks, and awkwardly does nothing...does
not turn back around...does not even budge.

"Hello?" says the voice, once again reaching out to the man who
still remains frozen. Then the girl makes her way around to the way the man
is facing, and to make things even more awkward and strange, his eyes are closed.

"Are you ok?" asks the girl.

The man ever so slowly opens his eyes to discover her inches away. He then,
so so slightly moves his head up and down in a subtle nod to sort of say
yes, he is fine.

Walking back to her board she confirms what is already quite obvious, "Well,
so am I."

"Hmmm?" asks the still frozen man, cracking and creaking his way to turning
and seeing her again, and attempting to be brave and normal.

"I'm ok too", she confirms once again.

He just stares, unsure of what to say or do.

"I mean that is why you came running after me isn't it?" she asks, so knowingly
it forces him to wake and rebel.

"wait a minute, I didn't come..."

She stops him with a hand wave and a staccato utterance of, "uh uh uh."

" What?"

"It's just a bad way to start off a relationship."  She says this as she wipes off sand and
water from her perfection that, it is clear, she has no awareness of.

The man attempts to break in for a second. "What..." but she cuts him off.

"With lies."

"wait a moment, what i was going to say, or actually ask was, what..."

"relationship?"  She finishes for him.

"Umm...yeah that", he stammers.

The girl stares at him for a moment with kind eyes, smiles
and lets out a little laugh...the man is dumbfounded.  She
grabs her surfboard and heads towards the boardwalk.

"Wait", he calls out to stop her.

She takes her board and places it back on the sand.  She sits
on the board and looks at him. "Yes?" she asks with a look in her eye
that says she thinks she may have to wait awhile for any follow up
from the man, yet also a look that reveals that she may in truth be
willing to wait. As long as it takes.

But it does not take so long after all as he replies with the repeated
question. "What relationship?"

"Ok...if you are going to make me sit here and discuss this silly
subject you are going to have to at least keep me warm."

"Ummm", he continues with his confused utterances, as if he is now
learning how to speak for the first time.

"Sit", she tries to make it clear.

He then sits where he stands.

"Over here?" she asks, gently pleading for him to not be as slow as he
seems, because she knows better.

He starts to rise, and then stumbles as his ankle gives out on him. She laughs.
Then he, crawling, humbly makes his way to her side.

"There, that's better." she says as she leans her body into his, innocently searching
for warmth.

They sit and watch the sun finish it's rising. The
music on his boom box finishes “Cathedral”, and then a shocking
pounding beat of heavy metal begins, and definitely sort of
disturbs the serene mood.

"mixed tape", the man clarifies.

"cool", the girl says, but only with ambiguous intent, so the man dosn't know
what to do, but go with his own feelings about it.

He starts to rise, but then explains," I mean really it’s a CD...It’s just
I still have the whole concept of mixed tape on the tip of my
tounge...I mean in my ready access vocabulary...anyway...remember
mixed tapes?"

"Yeah", she says, only slightly starting to reveal a sense of getting annoyed
at the increasing volume disturbing this moment, as the man seems caught between
a memory, and not knowing what to do.  Just then, an extremely loud guitar
lick plays that knocks the man out of his daze.

"Oh yeah," he says as he runs toward the music, and then sees the dunes which he can
not walk on...stops, turns, and runs to the stairs. Then up to the
boardwalk and back down to the stereo box blaring out and disturbing this
out of the blue moment of intimacy.  By the time he gets
there though the crashing loud heavy metal is over and the force you to breathe deeper
relaxing trip of “Today” by Jefferson Airplane begins...The girl sighs out "nice...",
and gently smiles with relief.

"Like I said, mixed tape."

"CD", she corrects.

"Right." He walks towards the railing stops and turns back to the
stairs, and then back down on the sand and over to the girl.  He
sits back down by her side with the music still playing...

"So...", he says by itself, nudging his way into conversation seemingly
one word at a time.

"What?" She plays along, attempting to inspire the next words as simply
as possible.  And it seems to work as he asks...

"Do you have a name?"

"Yes."

"Well?"

At that she just stares out to the ocean that is starting to now reflect the
blueness of the coming day.

"May I ask what it is?" he pushes forward.

"Yes", she says simply, attempting to not do the work for him.

"Ummm...so"

Then giving up, and taking on the role of the coach, she softly demands, "just ask."

"I thought I did."

"Not really. You really have to learn to get to the point." She continues as if
they have known each other forever.  "That’s the thing about you,
you sit there and you watch, and you dream...and you dream so deep
that your dreams have dreams."

"Wait a minute." He says, trying to at last get involved in the moment, but
she barrels on.

"I mean your forty blah blah years old, and you’ve had a million great
ideas that just sat there growing old inside a world you created in
your mind..."

He just stares semi-blankly...caught red handed, but still not admitting it,
as he keeps said proverbial red hands in some proverbial pockets, as she continues.

"And i guess i understand because that world is safe...love is all
that matters but there are no broken hearts there, and magic is as
common as dancing in the rain on the mgm backlot..."

"You mean singing", he corrects.

"What?"

"You mean singing."

"No, I meant dancing."

"Singing in the rain?" he says, as a question, looking to lead her to what she
must have really meant.

"I know the reference", she announces, and now stares him down pointedly, to make
herself perfectly clear. "But I meant dancing. And yes, I suppose some
singing may be involved.  I wouldn’t rule it out...But if you learn one thing about me,
learn this...when I say something, I mean it."

She now turns back to the ocean. As does he, so he does not see her eyes as they begin
to, like the ocean, reflect back the blueness of the coming day with rising salt water.

He starts again,"The thing is...I really should get back."

"Back to what?" she asks.

"I was writing."

"Why bother?"

"What is that supposed to mean?" He now finally looks and sees her and her tears, that prevent him from attacking back outright in the full bodied defensiveness he has grown accustomed too in
his life.

"you're not gonna finish." she simply says, as if it is an undeniable fact.

"Now wait a minute, you have no idea what..."

"No, you wait a minute."

He thinks on this for a very short time, before realizing he should quit while he's ahead,
even though he is no where near "ahead"...then he turns to leave.

He hears her voice from behind. "No really, wait a minute." a small vunerable voice of that girl maybe
asking him to stay.

He stops.

Then not turning back he continues to walk away, back down to the stairs and up
and around back to his bench and the stereo box...he reaches down and stops the music that had continued on in eclectic fashion through this scene he had played out with a stranger.
When he looks up, the stranger...the girl...is gone.

He gently sits back down on his bench and picks up the book of blank pages
in which he had begun his “magnum opus”.
He starts to write again...

She was there, and then she was
gone, and I was left with not even
a memory, but the faint scent of a
memory...of what could only have
been a dream...

He looks up and searches the shore for her or any clue or hint of her presence. Finding
nothing, he continues on.

A dream that I can already feel
emerging in my once “safe
world”...as she called it...as a
nightmare that will haunt me for
the rest of my days...until I can
find her again...until I know who
she is ...what is her name? 

He has made his way back to the stairs, considering going back down to the sand.  Knowing damn good and well that he will continue to write through inner monologue and though it may not be remembered later, he somehow dosn't care. What were his words worth anyway.  All that feels of any worth is this moment.  He takes one step down and then another and then wanders the shoreline with a secret goal, that is not so secret since it is just between himself and no one, of finding her again.

Is she crazy? Was she even there?
Am I crazy?...as I walked down the
lonely shore...No...as I ran 

He sprints. He can almost imagine running on the water as the waves reach up to flirt
with his stride...as they did many years ago.


Yeah, as I ran down the shore that
I once called home as a boy, I
became overwhelmed with a rush of
my past years, not coming back to
me, but vanishing completely..a
Rush of nothingness that only a
yoga master... or a heroin addict
might be acquainted with. So if you
thought this was gonna be some
memoir of the truth of some
hollywood has-been slash never was
past, and how he came home to sort
it all out and finally find
redemption or some crap like that,
I guess you were mistaken, even in
telling you that, I have told you
way more than I really ever
intended...so i guess i have to
kill you...or me.

Falling down, exhausted, lying flat, face to where waves are pulling the sand back home
and maybe even hoping to pull the man away.

She was right...my dreams have
dreams, and I am lost somewhere in
the middle.  I don’t want to give
you my dreams so you can crush them
and me with them, as if we were
yours to crush.  I don’t want to
write this semi-autobiographical
anti-memoir novella prose poetry
whatever, just so I can get
praise..or not...My dreams rest in
peace, so to speak, in my
mind...and that is exactly where i
want them to stay. 

I wish I would die right now, so
you would never be able to learn
any more about me... 

And then a voice comes from outside himself and his own private inner monolouge.

"Wait a minute."

The man slowly looks up to see her again.

and he asks...again,"What is your name?"

"What do you want it to be?"

And as his face falls back to the impression in the sand it had just risen from, he
lets out a muffled growl of almost final frustration. Then she speaks again.

"I'm glad you came back."

Not even bothering to lift up from the sand he continues his muffled communication. "Your'e
kidding me right?"

"No, I really am glad."

"No, I mean about you're name."

"Well...no I'm not kidding", she says openly and without pause, clearly quite certain of herself and her answers.

He sits up finally, since it seems the waves are not strong enough to wash him away, and faces this girl and this challenge strait ahead, or at least as strait as he can right now. And he repeats her, to be clear on her certainty, "You're not kidding?"

"No, I'm not"

"Are you a hooker?"

She immediately slaps him across the face, again responding with certainty and without pause. but then she says, "I'm sorry" as he returns his eyes to hers, and he looks carefully for any sign of insanity
including the possibility of any wrist band or name tag that proves she may be escaped from somewhere with doctors and bars. again she says, "I'm sorry..."

Then following her pattern of communication by not pausing and going with the gut,
he shoots, "No I guess I can understand why you did that, except for this...I can’t
understand why you did that, because I can’t understand why you
wouldn’t expect me to say something like that after you give me a “what
do you want it to be” as an answer to the question that you made such
a monumental deal of me asking...so I find you.."

"I found you", she retorts.

"So ok, you find me"

"But I couldn't have unless you came back"

"And I go ahead and ask you, what is your name"

"And I'm very glad you came back"

"And you give me.."

"what do you want it to be", she finishes for him.

"Yes, why would you do that?", he asks, tired of the game but not willing to give up.

And she answers, "Because I mean it."

"I don't understand."

"You try too hard to understand"

At this the man rises and starts to leave again, truly uncertain that any of this is worth it, he mumbles,
"I've got to go."

"Wait a minute", she whispers, and he stops, but does not turn to face her as she continues,"
I said “what do you want it to be”, beacuse I meant it. I mean what I say, and I say what I mean."

The man turns back to her slowly and then even slower and ever so carefully, once again repeats
a variation on the question, against his better judgement, "Do. you. have. a. name?'

"I imagine so"

He carefully plays along, "What do you imagine it may be?"

At this she still has no answer, but a question, "can we talk?"

"I was hoping", he says, thinking maybe an answer is coming soon.

"Oh wait, I mean walk", she corrects herself as she stands and begins to step down the shore. She passes by him and he watches her walk, and unable to say no to her or himself he catches up and
continues by her side.

"I get those two confused sometimes...walking, talking" she admits.

"Right"

"But I much prefer walking"

"I see", he says patiently, still thinking that this might get easier and an answer is inevitable.

She continues," Then if talking comes, it’s organic, and not only that but by the time
you are done, you have reached some sort of destination...even if you had no idea where you were going."

"What if you don't want to go anyplace?", he asks, letting himself fall into her philosophical banter
that may or may not have anything to do with what he wants to know, or as she might say, what he THINKS he wants to know.

"What if the world was flat?" again she returns with a question.

"What if the world..."

"Was flat?", she finishes for him.

Fighting every ounce of doubt inside himself he continues to walk with her, but is only able to grumble
a non distinct answer...so she takes this as a cue to continue on...

"Once upon a time there were people...most people assumed the world was flat."

"Yeah, I know."

"I know, you know everything."

"No I don't know every...", he stops himself from arguing, and takes a deep breathe as he starts to succumb to whatever this conversation, this relationship, this thing, is. "Ok, I'm sorry, go on."

she does, asking,"Is the world flat?"

"I don't know" he quickly answers.

"Don't be silly."

"I don't know anything."

"Oh I get it", she smiles,"You are trying to prove to me that you are open to the possibility of
not knowing everything...that's cute"

"It's not cute." he says, perfectly willing to begin to enter into her "world", but not willing to then be
patted on the head like a puppy who learned to pee outside the house.

"a little bit." she continues in the same direction of possible patronizing that he might only be misunderstanding.

"ok, fine", he gives in.

"Ahh, so you agree it's a little cute."

"No, I agree and KNOW that the world is not flat"

"ya think?"

"and no matter what you think or believe, or what anyone ever thought, it is round...it can only be round."

She just smiles, getting a kick out of his exasperation and confusion that is trying so hard to masquerade as knowledge and certainty.

He continues, "Actually it's more like a spherical mass hurling though space in a perfect pattern, creating time and all semblance of reality...at least as we know it...or pretend to know it."

"Are you done", she asks. He shrugs, and that is all. Then she says, "I was gonna say take it easy
with the specifics, but you are proving my point even more."

"I'm so lost," he says only once, though he has a look on his face that seems to continue to say it in silence.

"Good."

"Why good?"

"Why not? If you are never lost, you can never be found."

The man takes this in then asks the next question that seems to follow logically, "did you find me?"

"Yes," she responds," on this big flat world full of billions of people."

"haven't we established that the world is round?"

"Haven't you gotten the point yet?"

"The point of what?", he begs,"Where are we going with this?"

"Somewhere," she offers.

"That tells me nothing!"

"That tells you everything."

Now completely fed up and no longer willing to play into these mind games that promise answers and only deliver deeper questions; questions that feel like cakes with hidden razorblades, the man walks away announcing to anyone close enough to hear, "I'm done!  Goodbye Gypsy!"

"That's it!" she giddily yells as if they were a team on a TV game show from the 1970's, and he finally picked the right word. He turns back, waiting for an explanation. "My name", she says, "that's it."

The man should probably walk away at this, but he has quickly become accustomed to their push and pull and hopes that maybe if he sticks around it won't all be for nothing.  Still he must explain, "Ok...stop...your name is not Gypsy...I just called you that because I saw you and started to
write about a girl named Gypsy...and since you refuse to tell me your name, I just called you what i knew i needed to get back to...what i needed to finish."

"Gypsy Sunrise", she completes.

The man stares at her. "Why do you know that?"

"Because that's my name."

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

"Why did I need to tell you what you already knew?"

The man is pacing back and forth trying to calm himself from the closest he has ever felt to a murderous state.  He stops.  He breathes deep.  Then, "Wait...no...so what, you're not really here? I'm crazy and that...that, blah blah blah kinda sorta stuff?", as he get's right up in her face he can only end with a final,"hmm?"

"Don't be silly."

"OK."

"Of course I'm here."

"Ok, good." he is almost believing, but only because the alternative in not an option.

But then she says, "Just as much as you're here." forcing the man to fall into contemplation that he was hoping he was done with, once he knew her name.

"What if I don't want to be here?" he says in a way that that resembles someone verging on seeing them self for the first time in years.

"What if the world is flat?'

"What if...please stop...I just want..."

"I have to go", says Gypsy as she looks to the sky seeming to be communing with secret spirits that only she can see.

"Why?"

"That's for you to know, and me to find out."

The man puzzles at this but then finally says,"I don't wanna know."

"But you have no choice."

"I don't want to be here", he says as his true emotion builds and Gypsy starts to walk into the ocean, as if walking that direction makes as much sense as walking down the street.

She calls back," You have no choice."

"what if i did?" he questions.  Not wanting this to end.

"What if the world was flat?"

"Then you would fall over the side, and i would never see you again."...At that she goes under water and the man with tears now flowing freely looks to the now risen morning sun and welcomes the blinding kaleidoscope visions of seagulls and other passing strangers that are all related to others he grew up with many years ago before vanishing into other lives on other coasts where dreams were built and broken down into stones that created jagged paths leading him all the way to this moment.  Then among those visions he hears her voice once more...

"The world is not flat...you are here, whether you like it or not...and you are going someplace
whether you think so or not."

"I'm scared."

"You are supposed to be."

"I am lost."

"Good?"

"Why Good?"

"Because then you are exactly where you are supposed to be."

"I'm Back where I started."

"Yeah."

"In the town I grew up in."

"Sounds like a perfect place to start over."

Then Gypsy pops up from the water once more and yells out, "See you again!...Maybe next time you will understand....Just jump in!"  and under again she goes.

The man is tempted to dive in the water himself.  Jump in, she said.  But he walks away towards the boardwalk instead...

then all of a sudden he turns and runs to the water.  Giving up, giving in...baptizing himself in
the new day...While he is under he almost can see Gypsy as he can almost see himself and begins to understand so deeply that he does everything he can to just breathe in this water world and never go back...but he hears a muffled sound of music...

Van Halen “Cathedral”...he comes up to the air...looks up to the boardwalk and sees himself
sitting down to write...

He walks out of the water, deciding that this time he will not play games.  He walks directly towards himself, writing.

 Her name was Gypsy Sunrise. Every
dream that every man ever had...but
today she was his dream... 


The Man who walked out of the water like a new born wild gypsy, steps up to yesterday's reflection sitting on the boardwalk, looking for himself, and interrupts with a simple,"Hello".

His yesterday self answer's back, "Hello"

"you ok?"

"I think so, I'm not really sure."

The tomorrow him, still on the beach laughs like a happy buddha, who knows what is coming and can't contain his joy.

On the boardwalk the man who in one version of his life questioned every single little thing, now is staring at himself and says with no question, "I want to know you better."

"Good, cause ya know I'm not that bad."

"It's not you, i'm worried about."

"You'll be ok."

They stand there reflecting on themselves and each other for a moment.  Then a nearby payphone rings.  The man on the boardwalk looks to it confused.  The man on the beach smiles and runs down to
the stairs and up to the boardwalk, so he does not step on the dunes.  He then runs to get the phone.

and answers, "Hello?'

The man who was writing just watches, confused, but willing to go where he needs to go, because now he was facing himself, and not a self hiding in visions of loving fantasy women that he used to think were more real and gave him more life than whatever else he himself had to offer, but a self that was truly present and alive and confident...standing alone.

That self who came from the beach still talks on the phone.  "Hey, long time...How are you?...You know what? I’m Ok actually...go figure right?...really?...wow that sounds great...so they want me on the show?...am I interested?" Repeating back the question for the sake of the man on the
boardwalk...who slowly shakes his head yes...

On the phone the other man, the other self, continues, "Yeah yeah that sounds great...so
when do they need me?...ok good...no it’s just i’m doin a little soul searchin’...gettin to
know my self a little better..blah blah blah...yeah you know...oh and check this out...I think I gotta screenplay outta this whole thing..yeah ya know semi true story crap about a hollywood has been who
goes home yadda yadda...i know been a done a million times...but you know what this is My story...and...and never mind..I’ll let ya read it when I get back...listen I gotta go, so i
gotta a few weeks right?...alright I’ll call ya later...bye. " He goes and sits next to himself on the bench over looking the ocean and rising sun, that they both now realize will rise again no matter where they are.

The Man from yesterday says, "So how come you didn’t just walk over the dunes?...I mean isn’t that
thinking too much...shouldn’t you of all people have just gone for it?"

"come on dude, let's walk"

They both rise and walk down the boardwalk

The man who came from the beach continues, "Ok first of all you are the one
thinking too much...see it’s cool that you don’t walk on the dunes...that’s not being
anal...that’s respecting the environment and all that stuff."

"Oh", replied the man from yesterday, just walking and taking in the moment.

"So where do you want to go?"

"Everywhere."

"Alright! now we're talking"

And then the man who was writing on the boardwalk, the man from yesterday, the man who was so lost, replies with the wisdom of his new friend, his new self..."No just walking.  One step at a time." As if each step was a blank page and he was at last ready to really write...to really live.

Then the  woman who thought she recognized him earlier watches as one single shining man walks alone down the boardwalk. One man rising again like a gypsy sunrise...at last finding a home.

                                                                                                                               FADE OUT...for now