"Brad Pitt."
Charlie said.
Anson raised his brow slightly, not hiding the subtle meaning in his expression. He asked seriously, "So, every time, the man in your recurring dream is different? Or are Anthony and Brad together..."
Charlie was fed up.
"Hey."
Ignoring Anson, Charlie greeted someone behind him.
Anson turned around, just in time to see Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston. Their faces betrayed a hint of irritation and confusion, though they hid it well. However, a small trace still slipped through. As soon as they noticed others nearby, both professional actors quickly composed themselves, flashing their signature social smiles and waved from a distance.
But Brad and Jennifer didn't linger long. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, they quickly excused themselves and headed toward the banquet hall, arm in arm—
Clearly, they didn't want to stay here.
Charlie, "Does he hate you? He wouldn't even make eye contact with you."
It seemed Charlie had noticed as well.
Brad glanced at Anson from afar, then never looked his way again, acting as if Anson were invisible, chatting only with Charlie the whole time.
Anson shrugged lightly. "I'm not sure. Maybe my suit is too unconventional? Honestly, my agent already warned me this might happen frequently tonight—things aren't looking great."
For one, people usually don't like things that break from the norm, deviating from what they're used to. Pioneers are often seen as outcasts, sometimes even facing punishment.
For another, why should Anson be the first to break the rules in such a shocking way? It seemed like he was just seeking attention—definitely not a real actor.
Anson understood these possibilities—
But he didn't care.
Charlie was somewhat surprised. He glanced up at Anson with a smile, and the way he casually showed his open-mindedness and composure was quite impressive.
"A crescent-shaped lamp," Charlie said.
Out of nowhere, without any warning, Charlie switched the topic, skipping over Brad and Jennifer, returning to their earlier conversation.
Anson paused for a moment, still not fully adjusted to Charlie's erratic conversation style, but he didn't protest. Instead, he followed Charlie's thoughts.
"A crescent... hmm... moon, dark side of the moon, Pink Floyd, rock, memories, love, pain, separation..."
Once the associations started, the thoughts in Anson's mind began to surge like a vast starry sky, with different ideas connecting in various directions—
"Stop. Stop!" Charlie interrupted Anson. "This is my dream."
Anson was taken aback. "Oh, I was just about to reveal my true thoughts."
In reality, he had already given away a few thoughts, only three more words, and he would have linked to Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Indeed, the subconscious never lies.
Charlie gave Anson a glance. "You were two words away from connecting to your last pre-breakup 'activity.'"
Anson looked innocent. "You don't know what my next word would've been."
Charlie, "Hey, all men are the same."
Anson, "So, you're saying your associations would end up on sex, too?"
Charlie: ...
Anson could sense Charlie's frustration. He pressed his lips together to suppress his smile and raised his hands in surrender, closing his mouth.
Charlie took a deep breath and focused his thoughts.
"Crescent..."
"Croissant, butter, apricot jam..."
"Hunger, food, dieting..."
"Oh, oh God, I'm on a diet right now—what do you think?"
Anson, "Uh..."
Charlie, "Say something."
Anson looked Charlie up and down. "Are you sure? If you lose any more weight, there might not be anything left of you."
Charlie was a thin guy, barely two pounds of meat on his bones, looking like a skeleton that had barely regained any vitality.
Dieting?
Ha.
Charlie sighed, looking slightly annoyed. "It's all because of awards season. My agent and publicist think I need to look sharper. I have to adjust my diet and stop eating all that junk food: burgers, fries, fried chicken, meatballs, lasagna, tiramisu..."
As Charlie listed the foods, his eyes glazed over as if lost in thought.
Anson didn't hide his surprise. He thought that someone like Charlie, a behind-the-scenes writer thriving on talent, wouldn't need to worry about his appearance. But then again, this was Hollywood, where body anxiety could affect anyone—even Charlie.
Anson, "...There's a buffet inside. I heard the food's pretty good."
Charlie replied expressionlessly, "No one's going to eat it. It's just for show."
"And honestly, it's not filling. The buffet here is just a bunch of tiny finger foods."
Anson tilted his head—why did something feel off about that?
Charlie was lost in his own thoughts, unable to stop complaining.
"I don't even know why this dieting trend suddenly caught on. Everyone's on a diet, everyone's fasting. And it's not just women, I mean men too."
"They're all starving themselves to fit into some Dior suit. My God, how does anyone even fit into that?"
"What's even crazier is, why does everyone have to wear Dior? Don't they realize they look like vampires? Who started this trend?"
Anson: Ha.
Charlie finally finished ranting and looked at Anson with a questioning gaze.
Anson cleared his throat, "Maybe looking like a vampire is the point?"
Charlie gave Anson a once-over.
Anson quickly added, "I thought it was just a fashion thing. Didn't know you'd heard about it, too."
Charlie slumped his shoulders. "I thought it was just a fashion thing, too. Damn it, what does this have to do with us? If it were you, sure, maybe you could pull it off, but not everyone has to follow, you know?"
It seemed there was still a gap between the world of screenwriting and the fashion industry—the information wasn't completely in sync.
Thank goodness there were no smartphones yet.
Sensing Charlie was still eyeing his suit, Anson quickly changed the subject. "So, what does this have to do with Anthony?"
Otherwise, why did Anthony appear in the dream?
Charlie tilted his head. "Anthony thinks this whole idea is stupid. He believes people like me for my writing, my imagination, not my looks. He thinks turning me into a vampire is a dumb idea, that I'd end up looking like a mummy instead..."
His joke was hilarious.
"Ah!"
"Could it be that Anthony represents my appetite, tempting me to break my diet plan? He's always bringing sweets to my place and indulging in front of me."
Anson was now slightly interested in meeting Anthony—
After all, Anthony seemed to enjoy playing pranks.
Momentarily putting his thoughts aside, Anson looked at Charlie. "That might explain why you're naked in the dream. It's when we're most sensitive about our bodies. If you're willing, you can always find imperfections in yourself."
Charlie looked at Anson: Are you sure?
Anson spread his hands. "Even Marilyn Monroe probably had insecurities about herself."
Charlie nodded in agreement and didn't press Anson further. "And Hollywood loves to scrutinize us, label us. You're just a pretty face; I'm just a sexy nerd. For God's sake, I wish someone thought I was attractive, too."
Blah blah blah.