Dracula

Andy Fish over at Fishwrap has posted a page from his upcoming graphic novel, Dracula. Andy's post reminded me of something that happened shortly after I was married.

During the late 70's, the vampire myth enjoyed a resurgence in pop culture with a remake of Dracula starring Frank Langella. Stephen King's novel Salem's Lot spun off a made for tv movie. I had seen both movies and thoroughly enjoyed the book.

Flash forward to the mid-80's. When I glanced through the TV Guide (yes, we actually had a small book to look through to choose our viewing pleasures back in the olden days) and saw Nosferatu was going to be on. I couldn't resist. I was home alone one night as Himself was teaching. Had nothing better to do, so I settled in. I thought it would be interesting to compare and contrast the Hollywood version with this different looking version of the myth. (I love horror films. Not the gratuitous slasher junk of today's features. But thrillers. The movies that give you the heebie-jeebies because you don't really see any gore or violence, but fill in the details from your own overactive, fertile imagination. I digress..)

In a dream, I told Nosferatu I thought he was incredibly ugly. I told him though Bela Lugosi as Dracula was charming and elegant, Frank Langella as Dracula was stunningly handsome. As you can imagine, Nosferatu took exception to my audacity and as dreams sometimes deteriorate into nightmares, Nosferatu began to chase me. My arms were pumping like steam engine pistons, and my chubby little legs were churning up the ground as fast as I could go. I glanced over my shoulder and could see Nosferatu gaining on me. I turned and ran full steam. Nosferatu reached his bony hand with its horrendously long fingernails and grazed my thigh. I squeezed my eyes shut and let out a high-pitched, blood curdling scream.

Then there was laughter. Gales and guffaws of someone busting a gut a with laughter. My legs were still churning. I was breathing heavily. Great gasps as I tried to fill my aching lungs with oxygen. My mouth, a gaping maw. I felt the blood pounding through my ears in time to my heart pounding in my chest. I felt my eyes, huge and round ballooning out of their sockets. I came to a dead stop on top of the bed. Himself sat on the edge of the bed. He was the source of the laughter.

"Ha.." he tried to speak, but words failed him as he was laughing so hard. "Ha, that..that is...is.. the funniest thing I've ever seen. You were dancing on the bed!" Another wave of laughter shook him.

At first, I was a little put out. To think my husband who was supposed to be my protector, my shield, my knight in shining armor was an unsympathetic clod! But no matter how fetching one looks standing in the middle of the bed and wearing a pale blue, Christian Dior nightshirt, the reality is one looks ridiculous running in place on the bed. And never miss an opportunity to keep your mouth shut. I sat on the bed and laughed with Himself.

I still think Nosferatu is one fugly dude. I'd take Bela Lugosi's charm and Frank Langella's dark looks any day and twice on Sunday over Nosferatu. I'd even gravitate towards the sparkly vampires of Twilight though I could do without the teen angst. On another tangent, I'm grateful that Stephenie Myer's vampire romance caught the imagination of The Young One. The Young One is not much of a reader. She burned through the pages of the series and is reading the entire series again.

Do horror movies make you dance on the bed?