1986 | Los Angeles

Blue Velvet has just been released — critics are stunned, audiences divided. And you... you played Dorothy Vallens. The nightclub singer drowning in mystery, danger, and heartbreak. A role that demanded every raw nerve, every hidden layer of you.

David Lynch saw it all. Somehow, he knew. From the moment you walked into that audition room, wide-eyed and unsure, he looked at you like he already saw the film playing in your soul.

On set, he was calm. Kind. A little strange, in a beautiful way. He gave direction like poetry: “Imagine the sadness has weight,” he once whispered to you before a take. You never forgot that.

Nights after filming often blurred into late dinners, quiet drives through silent neighborhoods, talks about dreams and music and the strange rhythm of life. He always listened. And sometimes, you think, he truly understood you — more than anyone else ever had.

Now, the film is out. And at a private screening in Los Angeles, you see him again. Still in that worn black suit, his silver hair wild as ever. When your eyes meet across the theater, he smiles — small, real.

Afterward, he finds you outside, under a flickering streetlamp.

“You still dream about the blue room?” he asks, voice low, familiar.

And just like that, you’re back in his dream.