FADE IN:
INT. DARK CAVE - NIGHTMARE
Cowering behind a stalactite inside a cavernous underground cave, WALLACE, a handsome, Black, Gay, slender Dominican- American male, late 20’s, professional haircut, trim beard is peeking at a fire-filled scene of an entranced older Mexican man dressed as a SHAMAN wearing a MOSAIC JADE MASK and leopard skin draped over his shoulder, chanting ceremoniously.
Firelight reflects off polished green MASK. Removes a black stingray spine from his nose, meditatively piercing his groin area. BLOOD squirts upwards. Dozens of Mayan sculptured faces of rulers and shaman scroll quickly past Wallace’s mind’s eye.
Wallace releases a muffled huff, covering his mouth, tortured by what he has seen.
Black shadow crosses the floor as a gigantic black EAGLE whooshes above.
Shaman’s EYES shift behind jade mask, now staring towards Wallace. Shaman growls loudly, leaping at him. A horrific sound of a JAGUAR GROWL echoes inside the massive cave.
INT. WALLACE’S APARTMENT - MIAMI - MORNING
Wallace wakes. Shouting in bed, grabs covers, patting himself, looking around to make sure he is actually not inside the cave.
WALLACE The fuck!!...
Book on his bedside table titled “Achievements of the Ancient Maya.
Law books neatly stacked next to books on Ancient Egypt and Mayan civilization along window sill. BUST sculptures of Queen Nefertiti and Pharaoh Akhenaten decorate his desk.
A framed PICTURE of a young, teenaged Wallace being held by his GRANDMOTHER.
Rubs face, struggling to get nightmare out of his head. CLOCK reads - 12:15 PM.
Still bothered by his nightmare, he notices a wilted houseplant in window. Grabs GLASS to water plant. Gently runs his fingers, caressing it’s wilted leaves and dangling solitary FLOWER.
I’m sorry.
WALLACE (CONT'D)
He nudges the flower lit by early morning glow. Pours water from the cup beside his bed into plant.
INT. WALLACE'S APARTMENT
Wallace shakes his head to snap out of it, wiping sweat off his brow. Stares at FRAMED PICTURE of his grandmother and him in graduation cap & gown, smiling, holding his law DEGREE.
Posts on BLUESKY from his phone - “When u wake up in the morning and realize you’re still alive #FML”
Washes face, moisturizes, oils hair
Chugs Orange Juice from the container, orange liquid drips onto his muscular, black chest.
Pulls grey SWEATSHIRT on - “I HATE IT HERE” printed on chest Puts AIRPODS in, then SUNGLASSES, blasts Pharell song, Finna
Get Loose.
EXT. SIDEWALK - DAY
Song still playing on his Airpods. Bearded, white male POLICE OFFICER spots him walking, fixing his gaze suspiciously.
Wallace notices, staring straight ahead as he walks by, song still playing in his ear.
Officer stares him down as he walks by, provoking a response. Wallace passes. Blows wind, nods in disgust.
EXT. LAKE SHRINE PARK - LOS ANGELES - DAY
Odys’ FIANCE’, a handsome, tall, black man with basketball player’s physique and style stands next to a lush green, lakeside shrine. ODYS, a thirty-something Mexican-American, very attractive, brown-skinned, TRANS woman (but no one notices) stands in front of him, staring at a DIAMOND RING he offers her. Her face, flushed with emotion, suddenly turns sad.
2.
She nods “no”. Gently returning the ring into its case. Mouthing words. His face becomes drained of all color. He nods in disappointment as she walks away.
INT. ODYS’ CAR
Odys enters her WHITE RANGE ROVER with tan leather seats, sits in silence for a beat. Emotions wash over her face. She slowly applies a deep RED LIPSTICK to her lips, trying to stop her lips from trembling, holding back tears.
She drives off, playing song Elastic Heart by Sia.
As song rises to a crescendo she sings loudly, neck veins
bulging.
ODYS
“I sing for love, I sing for me, I
shout it out like a bird set free!” Pounding her chest, she continues.
ODYS (CONT'D)
“I’ve got a thick skin and an
elastic heart!...”
She shouts the words, full release, banging steering wheel. Like a drag queen, lip-syncing for her life.
EXT. ODYS’ OFFICE - CULVER CITY, CALIFORNIA - LATER
Odys parks outside an industrial warehouse. Takes a deep breath to compose herself. Dries her eyes, meditatively reapplying blood-red lipstick & powdering face using visor MIRROR. Looking into mirror, her expressions change from REGRET, to DETERMINED to CONFUSED to REASSURING herself.
ODYS (to self)
You did the right thing. You did the right thing.
Catches a flash of a dark shadow figure, what looks to be a SHAMAN wearing a mosaic mask of GREEN JADE staring at her from back seat.
Da fuck!?
ODYS (CONT'D)
Turns around, fixes smudge off her pearly-white teeth with a TOWELETTE.
3.
ODYS (CONT'D) (blowing wind)
I need a vacation.
Opens door. Her female, black twenty-something ASSISTANT eagerly walks to meet her.
ASSISTANT (cheery)
Hey honey, we’ve been waiting for you! Here’s your tickets for Mexico. Don’t, lose them.
Assistant slides the white ENVELOPE with airline tickets into Odys’ purse.
ASSISTANT (CONT'D)
How is that smoking hot fiancé’ of
yours?
ODYS
I’m good. He’s not going.
Assistant stops walking. Mouth drops open. She rushes to catch up as Odys speed walks into a stark warehouse full of racks of clothing and large windows.
ODYS (CONT'D) I called it off.
INT. ODYS’ OFFICE - DAY
ASSISTANT What?! Aw honey....
Odys whips her hand up.
ODYS
I’m fine, I’m fine. Don’t wanna
talk about it.
ASSISTANT
You should go...Take a break and
you know, restore that divine flow, my queen.
Assistant waves hands and bows.
ODYS
(deep sigh, smirking)
Yeah...I could use some fun in the sun in the Mexican Ri-vi-er-a.
(MORE)
4.
ODYS (CONT'D) So...anyway, did Zendaya like the
outfits I pulled for her? She absolutely must blow it up on the red carpet.
ASSISTANT
So, about that...she did but...
Odys shoots her an eye-roll with a sigh, intently pulling selected outfits from the rack.
EXT. VIPASSANA TEMPLE - CALIFORNIA - MORNING
JAHARI, a brown-skinned, clean-cut well-dressed 40-something, heterosexual, Persian-American with a slight British accent, nervously stands in a line with corporate type women and men. Awaiting registration into a gleaming, white-gold temple complex.
INT. VIPASSANA TEMPLE
Participants begrudgingly give up their CELLPHONES into wicker baskets at a cellphone check station, receiving CLAIM TICKETS. Female attendant elegantly dressed in all-white, pants spa uniform holds out her hand.
ATTENDANT (raising eyebrow)
Sir,...any other devices?...iPads?
Participant huffs and gives up his iPad from his suitcase.
Finally, Jahari arrives to station, hands shaking, holding onto his phone as he offers it. The ATTENDANT struggles to remove the iPhone from Jahari’s hand. Jahari finally lets go, releasing an exhale as if coming up for air.
INT. SHARED ROOM
He unpacks belongings into his spartan, white room. His ROOMMATE nods hello to Jahari, eyes meet, recognizing they’re both terrified. Aware they are forbidden from sharing words.
INT. VIPASSANA TEMPLE - NEXT DAY
Glorious morning light filters into the large open-aired meditation hall with hundreds of participants all dressed in comfortable clothing, sitting in lotus position and some in chairs, listening to a video of a Guru Goenka speaking on a massive screen. He finishes and they meditate for hours.
5.
Jahari is trying to relax and immerse himself throughout the meditation. Constantly fidgeting, frantically looking around and breathing to calm himself.
Hours pass.
Jahari fixates on a MAN nearby starting to tremble. Jahari watches eyes wide, as Man quietly begins to sob. Jahari’s mouth drops open, expression turns to horrified as he notices several other men sobbing quietly as well.
Jahari closes his eyes, trying to meditate shutting out the criers. His lips start to quiver. Eyes welling, body begins to shake. He slaps himself. The sound startles people around him out of their meditation. He gets up, wiping his eye, scampering away. Bowing to the attendants as he exits the main hall.
INT. VIPASSANA TEMPLE - BATHROOM
Jahari is sitting on a closed toilet, hiding in the stall. Mouthing to himself “fuck-fuck-fuckety-fuck”, searching his head for a desperate solution. Punches side of bath stall.
INT. VIPASSANA TEMPLE - EVENING
Jahari is sitting up looking at the moon from his window. Suddenly a dark, faceless SHADOW FIGURE looms above him, blocking the moonlight. The leathery, dark-skinned face of a Mexican older man, SHAMAN is inches from Jahari’s face. Jahari SHRIEKS in fear.
Jahari’s Roommate groans, semi-awake from the shouting.
JAHARI
That’s it! I’m out! Fuck this
haunted ass place!
Frantically gathers his things, stuffing all into weekender BAG. He scuttles down the empty dark halls, CANDLE in hand, fussing with his ROBE.
INT. OFFICE
He slowly opens door where cellphones are all stored. It is dark. Uses candle to find phone labeled with his name.
Triumphantly grabbing his iPhone, he reverently runs his fingers along the black-mirrored face of the device reflecting the MOON. He kisses as if it were sacred.
6.
EXT. VIPASSANA TEMPLE - LATER
Jahari jumps over a fence, his expensive blue suede LOAFERS squishing into the mud.
JAHARI
Bloody hell! My Ferragamo's!
He uses iPhone LIGHT to pull his SHOES off into the dark.
INT. JAHARI’S RENTAL CAR - LOS ANGELES
out of mud. Scurries
- NEXT DAY
Jahari is blasting a song by Nicole Scherzinger in a matte black, Mercedes G wagon with gold trim, singing, dancing. He takes a long hit from a vape. Parks. Phone dings with a blissful 5-year photo memory of his wife and daughter. Stares at it for a beat. He lowers the music.
He goes to text his wife, Gloria. “I’m sorry Vipassana was torture. Men were crying. I have another idea. Ayahuasca ceremony in Mexico. It’s supposed to reset the brain and transform. Soldiers with PTSD do it and get cured.”
Gloria’s reply - a text bubble of her typing starts and stops, then starts and stops again. Jahari anxiously stares. “One can only hope that it can cure whatever perversion you have inside that head of yours. Show me you are serious about changing or my lawyer will draw up the papers for divorce. Your choice.”
Jahari blows wind loudly. Punches the steering wheel frustrated.
EXT. THERAPIST’S HOME
Wallace knocks on front DOOR. Beats headphones on, blaring a Pharrell song.
DOCTORA ISABEL, an elegant woman of presence, mixed-race, Cuban Psychologist in her fifty’s with streaks of grey hair mixing with her long, thin dreadlocks. She wears a flowing, white linen pantsuit, opens door.
WALLACE (bright wide smile)
Y que, Doctora?
They kiss each other on the cheek, Isabel hugs him warmly.
7.
ISABEL
I haven’t seen you in so long! You
look...dare I say, happy?
WALLACE
I guess so. It’s a bright, blue day
at least. Hopefully this sesh wont bring me down.
He winks at her. She replies with a sassy smirk and eyebrow raise, floating towards kitchen. He follows.
INT. ISABEL’S THERAPY ROOM
Orange painted walls covered in wooden TRIBAL MASKS from Africa and Caribbean Taino Indian artifacts decorate the room.
Wallace sees a disturbing FLASHBACK of the MASKS from his nightmare. Shakes his head. He is lying on a contemporary brown leather chaise.
ISABEL (pensive sigh)
I asked you here to...(deep sigh) Look, all of your problems can be reduced to four essential issues: death, meaninglessness, isolation, and freedom. You fear death because you lost your grandmother recently, the one constant in your life. Without her, life is meaningless. You exist in detached isolation and, freedom is a ghost...something for you that can disappear in an instant because that is what happened to your parents when your concepts of the world were forming.
Taps his feet nervously to a song in his head.
ISABEL (CONT'D) (calls him to attention)
Wallace!
Gives him a hard side-eye. Tapping stops.
WALLACE I’m listening...
ISABEL
Your life is currently paralyzed by
post traumatic stress disorder.
8.
Isabel drinks a glass of water, puts it down then leans towards Wallace with a serious gaze.
ISABEL (CONT'D)
For years I’ve kept you off the
ledge,...from giving up. I love you as if you were my own son and really-really want you to get better but I can't keep taking your money.
Wallace nervously bites his nails.
WALLACE
Tsk...My insurance covers this...
ISABEL (interrupting)
You know what I mean...there’s this...recording playing on repeat in your mind. A tragic, sad song. Until you are ready to let it go and change the song, the panic attacks will never stop and you will not move on. (sighing) I see your posts on social media, they are very depressing and I mean, look at your messaging.
She stares at the words printed on his sweatshirt, “I hate it here”. Wallace looks down at the words. Replies with defeated, sad puppy eyes.
WALLACE
How do I change what’s in my head?
ISABEL
You need a hard reset, Wallace.
(pause)
You refuse western medicine. You don’t believe in any religion and clearly years of therapy haven’t helped. As much as it pains me to say...I’m not helping you heal. At this point, I’m actually enabling you.
WALLACE
What am I supposed to do?
ISABEL
That’s for you to figure out.
(pause)
(MORE)
9.
ISABEL (CONT'D) You need to fall in love with
living again, querido.
She leans over to caress his cheek then hair lovingly, like a
mother.
ISABEL (CONT'D)
I know it seems impossible but you
must stop thinking about the family you lost and start your actual career by finally taking that Bar exam...Start imagining the creation of your own, new family? You can do all of it. I believe in you.
EXT. FRONT DOOR OF THERAPIST’S HOUSE
She hugs Wallace goodbye, handing him a bag of AVOCADOES.
ISABEL
Here, they are fresh from out back.
WALLACE
So that’s it? You’re firing me?
ISABEL (nodding no)
You’re graduating.
She smiles lovingly, tears welling. Door closes in his face. Feeling dejected, lost. He lingers, almost knocks on door, then walks away.
INT. JAHARI’S RENTAL CAR - SAME TIME - LOS ANGELES
Jahari texts Wallace at the light turning GREEN. Ignoring the horns BLARING behind him.
INT. WALLACE’S JOB
Wallace is listening to Pharrell song on his AirPods, trying to get his mind off what just happened. Reviewing a case file, taking notes. Quiet room, walls full of law books.
Phone vibrates. Text from Jahari - “remember when you told me you had a dream of seeing some ruins in Mexico?”
Wallace replies “Yeah. Why? And didn’t they take your phone away in that meditation retreat?”
