My Dream With Frank Miller
This one’s a little weird, so hold on.
I had a dream last night. Or rather, it was more this morning. Anyway – Frank Miller was in town for a screening of something (not The Spirit) and afterwards I found out he was staying with the people next door. I ‘accidentally’ bumped into him out the front and sparked up a conversation. The usual niceties, mostly me being very nice. Then he started walking off down the road. I asked him where he was going, he said he had a meeting. I offered to drive him there, he politely declined, I insisted, he took up the offer thankfully because it was a really hot day and he was dressed in his usual dark clothes and big hat. I told him to wait at his place and I feverishly ran into my place to get what I needed.
Here’s where the normal dreamtime, Inception, garbage starts.
I couldn’t get my mind straight on what I needed. I whipped off plenty of my clothes, because I’d been wearing them all night at the screening and then partying hard after it. There was no time to bathe so I had what we call an ‘English Shower’, I used some deodorant.
Next, I needed my copy of Daredevil #191 for Miller to sign, it being his greatest issue of Ol’ Hornhead. As I raced for my comic chests I found they weren’t where they should be. Then I realised I needed a pen. Five minutes of flipping through desks and drawers, every pen I found was dry or broken, and then I found a great little keychain Sharpie – finally.
I went back for the comic hunt. I found one chest, the wooden topped one, but I needed the tarten toppped one. I looked in it anyway, nothing but old 90s comics. I raced off for the tarten chest, it was nowhere. I became frantic, every time I checked my watch another five minutes had passed. Would Miller wait this long?
I realised I needed new clothes, so I tried to dress but everything I picked up and put on looked fine until I inspected it to find either massive holes or they were female items. Frustrating, but after three attempts I was there.
I raced downstairs to find the chest. The stairs were covered in piles of comics, none of them Daredevil. (This became more frustrating because last night, before sleep, I actually had all my Daredevil comics out for some research.) I looked downstairs, no chest. I raced upstairs to find family members in different states of undress asking stupid questions of me. There was no time to answer them. I brushed them off. Then found a new chest in a different position – except it was the wooden chest again. I turned to where the wooden chest should be and saw the tarten one. I looked in, sure enough the Daredevil comics were there. I grabbed #191 and raced out the door.
I was so excited to have an entire car trip with Frank Miller. I have an idea for a Daredevil mini (truth, it’s awesome and I will pitch it one day) and I knew this was my time to get it out there. Not that Miller has any ties with Marvel but he is THE Daredevil scribe. I had to share it with him, see how great he might think it is.
It has been 45 minutes by this point, surely Miller had gone. I raced next door, the kids there (actors from a local drama show on TV, no, actually, the characters themselves) told me Miller wasn’t there. He had gone to their grandparents. The kids then had trouble locating where on the street their grandparents lived. I was frustrated but trying to stay calm. I found the house and sprinted there. I knew Miller would be gone, he had an important meeting to get to. By now he’d either have missed it and been pissed at me or have gotten someone else to take him, and been pissed at me. How wrong I was.
My brain started to wake up, I could feel it. Instead of tearing me out, and me never knowing what would happen next, it gave me the coda as quickly and simply as it could. The following coda was presented to me kind of like a documentary. The screen faded through photos, with interview text laid over them, and my narration pounding in your ears. Enjoy.
Image – Me sitting on a park bench next to a glassy-eyed Frank Miller
Text – RKL: Mr Miller, do you feel you have any Daredevil stories left in you?
Voiceover – It was either the smell of excrement or his tinny moaning that gave it away. Frank Miller wasn’t there anymore.
Image – My face showing horror.
Text – Miller – Guuuhhhhh…….
Voiceover – Frank Miller had been surviving on serious pain medication for quite some time. He had moments of lucidity but they had to be tempered with time for his body to shut down.
Image – Me perched on the bench on my feet, the look of horror growing.
Text – RKL: Ugh…Mr Miller….ugh
Voiceover – This wasn’t the Frank Miller anyone knew, nor anyone should know about. I was a fan of good comics journalism, and this creator, I had to shut down this interview, stat.
Image – My hands clawing at my face as drool hangs down from Frank Miller’s widening maw. I kind of got a Phil Dunphy vibe from my reaction here.
Voiceover – I had to save face for everyone. I had to shut this down.
Text – RKL: Ugh…thank you for your time Mr Miller.
Text – Miller – [REDACTED]
I told you, right, weird.
NOTE: Understand, this doesn’t reflect my view of Miller at all. I think he’s one of the best comic creators the medium has ever seen and I still like his work. All Star Batman and Robin The Boy Wonder does not get enough good press. Seriously.