“I keep having this dream where I wake up in my bed, and all I can hear is this yapping. I go in the hall and I see this guy sitting in a chair. He’s got a cap on and his head’s down, so I can’t see his face. I yell at him, but the guy won’t look at me. And the yapping’s getting louder and louder. I walk down and say, ‘Hey mate, you alright?,’ but he just sits there -- says nothing. I lift his head up with my hands, and he’s got this cut across his neck. It looks like a big f.ing mouth. I lean down closer, and I see this Chihuahua sitting inside his neck, looking back at me. Yapping. Yapping at me.”
This monologue, spoken in monotone over a fluid shot of a spr...