One Dream to Rule Them All

This column is a reprint from Unwinnable Monthly #194. If you like what you see, grab the magazine for less than ten dollars, or subscribe and get all future magazines for half price.

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Now this.

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The Lord of the …. Yawn: The Fellowship of … the ..

I’m a light sleeper. I tend to wake up at the drop of a hat, or the jump of a cat or the bump of a cat in a hat. So, fairly regularly, I have something in my ears as I drift off. Sometimes it’s my podcast friends, sometimes it’s my book friends and sometimes it’s my movie friends. Recently, I’ve been crashing out to 20-30 minute segments of the extended editions of the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

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I settle into the Shire. The lush greenery and familiar phrases wash over like an old friend I haven’t visited in quite some time, but as soon as we reconnect, we seamlessly fall into those old beats. Those old rhythms. Those old bits. They say one thing, I say another, smoke billows out from our weed pipes and the ale flows freely. I slip into the luxury of a quaint life, satisfied with ease and missing little. My eyes close with the scent of flowers. Suddenly! Creeping dread. My eyes snap open as Howard Shore’s score drums underneath the dreamy stillness of the Shire. I have to turn this off for the night.

When I return the next night, something doesn’t sit quite right, but Gandalf’s steady hand steers me towards sleep. Frodo and Sam step a bit farther from home than they’ve ever been, but Strider glides out of the dark smoke to help guide them. My eyes glaze over and again, my dreams dance on gilded waves, gliding towards Rivendell. Even the arrival of the Black Riders can’t sway my sleep this night. Darkness falls as I sail away on stormy waters, and …

I wake up. Most nights, I have to restart from the beginning, reminding HBO that I did not, in fact, stay up until 1am watching The Fellowship of the Ring for the fifth time. I have to peel back the layers of where my consciousness blended into the night, reach back to the scene where it all disintegrated into nothingness. The last thing I remember from last night was the escape from Weathertop, so I quickly jump to Rivendell. A bright haze greets Frodo as he and I waken from our nightmares, rejuvenated. Only for me to once again, fall asleep before meeting Boromir. I try again the next night, and while I learn that it is not so simple to walk into Mordor, I still struggle to leave Rivendell. Maybe because I know what comes next. The waves call me.

I wake up again. This time, I skip a little farther ahead though. The Fellowship heads out from Rivendell as my eyes struggle to stay open. The elf and the dwarf bicker, the halflings are hungry, they are mountaineers. I fall deeper into Moria. The drums of the deep call me, drumming me deeper, deeper, and deeper. The flames reach up, flicking my eyelids …

I have to restart again, but this time I know exactly where. I just wait for Gandalf to say “friend” and I’m raring to go! This time I make it to the Balrog on the bridge. Gandalf yells “YOU SHALL NOT PASS” and the bridge crumbles and the whip rises and my eyes fall. Down, deep into the depths of the minds, where men fear to tread. But …

I also wake up, and it’s not been too long. The remains of the Fellowship are only just now entering Lothlorien, and as Galadriel’s ethereal presence passes across my screen …

I wake up. When I return to Middle-earth the next night, nothing is right. As our Fellowship approaches the Argonath, Uruk-hai assemble nearby, and Boromir’s restless eyes keep eyeballing Frodo’s chest. My restless eyes can’t resist the siren’s call of sleep though, and once again ….

I wake up. I try again the next night, and this time I get through Boromir’s attempted theft of the ring, and then something something something …

Shit, I wake up. Tonight though, it ends. I refuse to not wrap this first film up. I drink a pot of coffee, and lock in. Boromir’s taken an arrow to the chest, now two. Aragorn gets his vengeance. Sam follows Frodo into the river. Pippin and Merry are carried off to Saruman. The Fellowship is broken. As Sam and Frodo cross over the river, my eyes once again start to sway. This time, I force them to stay open until the credits. I finally made it.

I queue up The Two Towers, and just as Frodo and Samwise pop back up on my screen …

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Noah Springer is a writer and editor based in St. Louis. You can follow him on Bluesky @noahspringer.com.