During my late teens and early twenties I had a series of strange, surreal dreams that had a recurring theme: in each, I was covered top to bottom with small, white "potato-eye" looking buds that grew out of my skin. As I'd wipe off or break off a bud, another one grew in it's place.
Bigger, thicker and harder to get rid of.
People in my dreams didn't seem to notice my dilemma, and when I'd point out to them the bizarre vegetation covering my body, they'd suggest I was over-reacting. If I'd just be calm, they said, it would all be OK. I never calmed, and it was never OK. In my dreams these "potato-eye" looking things took over my body, completely covering me from head to toe.
What's that you said about my need for control, Dr. Freud?
The Ruins reminded me of my old series of dreams. The movie, which tells the story of twenty-somethings who stumble upon the ruins of a centuries-old Mayan temple, employs intelligent, killer vegetation that craves and consumes human blood as a main plot device.
But that's where the similarities between the movie and my dreams end.
Because my dreams were more entertaining, more suspenseful and scarier than this movie!