Sure enough, there he is, tossing and turning in bed. The camera zooms in on his head, and we fade to a ten-year-old boy running hither and yon, looking lost and terrified, amid overlapping, phantasmagorial images of deep dark forest and the sound of someone or something smacking its lips and going "Mmmm, ymmm, nmm-nmm."
"This is disturbing on so many levels," says Amanda.
"I'll take that as a compliment," says Scott. "You may recognize the lip-smacking noises from The Car that Ate Women. I reused the sound effect."
"So why is he sleeping alone? Shouldn't the blind chick be in bed with him?"
"Blame the Hays code. Even if they'd been married… it was just a different time. Thank God for modern degeneracy."
The next morning finds Dwight in a diner, bleary-eyed and unhappy, sitting at the counter. "There used to be six different scenes where people talked about their nightmares," says Scott. "Now there's only two, and I had to fight for those two. I think you'll agree I was ri