Psychonomia: Dorothy (In Progress: GPT)
Dorothy is a bank teller. Red is a factory manager. The balance between them is traditional. Red doesn't want to have Dorothy in a factory. Red is an overall meaty man of reckless abandon for social politiking, but is focused mainly on the ability of himself to provide. Dorothy also sees this and carries a deep sense of aloofness about the recent goings on, but is focused mainly on the ability to take care.
She begins with her three children, and is thinking of generational wealth just as the RedScare begins to hit after WWII and the great depression. The psychonotic source takes her two first children and they get completely removed from her timeline. Her Husband and remaining child eventually have to put her in a hospital because she quits being able to work and gets increasingly disgruntled as literally no one in her life can remember her first two kids. In the hospital, she obsesses over a reoccurring dream: Psychonomia. But, only because the drugs they have her on and the threat of being put on more drugs if she talks about her 3 kids, as it is considered a delusion. Knowing that she is and was a writer, the staff seem to care little about the speaking of futuristic robots and interdimensional weaponry for a fictional book, although they see her a bit bigoted and insensitive considering the current state of the Cold War and the finishing of the Nazi empire run by Hitler. She just can't 'keep torturing herself' with the memory of her two, never-existent children. "It's not good for her mental health". So, instead, she talks about her book that she wants to write, the primary antagonists being the Psychonaughts. The staff are more amused than serious. She is very serious, and fains the necessary amusement in her make believe story. She recalls the outside world as a place of undoing. It looks like she belongs here. Some days are incredibly difficult as she relives the trauma of having her husband look at her like she's a threat to the remaining child soley because she [-] [Hospital] Air blends the bends of rolling rubbing limbs, and hymns rhythming from behind the window. Behind it. Perhaps a window of my own. Maybe that's what I've needed all along. The only window is at the desk, I'm upset and unrest'd so. Repeating and repeating and spinning and still and heat brings goosebumps and ice brings sweat. And, *ZAP* and *ZAP*. Repeating and spinning. "Can you grab some gum on your way home for Judy?". Laughed. I laughed a little. Normally I would smile. An eyebrow raised falls again and a smile joins his face. Fresh cut grass and molasses have a date in the kitchen as the silence of knowing brushes in through the... Adding another thing to the end of my day is always something more. And, we have so much 'more'. Glove gum. The window. Through the window. "Gum? Of course I can. Could use some myself." Giggling from behind the corner leading a slam of the back door and my audience was met. I was so happy. *ZAP* and *ZAP* I was so angry, I couldn't even hold it. How could he forget? Why would we have clove gum? How could I be so angry from something that's not real? He couldn't have. He wouldn't have done - and why? How can I be haunted by the giggles of my own child? Not real not my child no no no repeating and spinning No, NO, no. No, and where did all the other things go? The dolls, her.. her blanket. What will she do without- No, NO, NO. What are they trying to say to me now? They bend my world and take my kids. Everyone theorizes about God. I know. I just know and they say they know, but they think and I don't think and I say that I think and they say I said I know and I know. repeating and spinning *ZAP* and THESE. THESE THINGS HAPPENING IN MY HEAD. "Dorothy!" He's mad, I yelled at him and he has no more patience. This isn't about the gum and I got so mad at him because I found it. "Dorothy!" She's alerted, oh no. No no NO they can see it now. "I'm so sorry. I've been falling behind," She's not mad. She's concerned. Why did I yell at him? Why did I yell. "Here" Two little cups. One for pills, one for water. I was yelling at him so much, and I yelled and yelled at the staff. I think the electroshock works. I'm not yelling the nurse now. I need these pills. "There you go, Dorothy. Under your tongue please?" Judy's giggles "... of course I can." "You have been much better, is there anything I can get you?" "A time machine" "A time machine?" Laughter swells from her stomach. "I can try and see if we have any, hun, you take care"
"... Take... Care..." I should take a nap. I need a nap, this is all just too much. Sleep. I can't even be a mother to Charlie knowing this can happen. I don't know anything. - I DON'T KNOW. Judy, Georgie, they're not real. They were never alive. Take a nap, and I'll wait until the pills kick in.
[[[She keeps writing in her book and when she gets near the end of her stay it becomes closer to a diary. She writes into the story her kids in another universe, under character names. The characters eventually grew into her realizing she was still coping with a loss that wasn't ever real from the beginning. The staff, when telling her they were closing down and she was going to go to a house had a button on it. 'Phi'. Just 'Phi' was visible. So she started crying.
"Awe, hunny, you're gonna be okay - we'll miss you, please don't cry"
And we can end the movie with her outside in the bright, surreal sunlight, turned to look into the hospital and saying 'take care'. Isiar is in her eye.
Now older, and calmer - not wiser... She's just glad that Phi is safe, and Isiar and Blenra. She wants to see her kid and she's so happy she's crying and they think she's sad.]]]
[[[I don't think I'm going to use all of the below, it was just cute to me that GPT guessed the names and I'm gonna take a nap now]]]
FROM GPT
Certainly! Here’s a bridge that transitions from the beginning of the hospital scene to when Dorothy realizes she has been projecting her own children into the story she’s writing:
[Scene: Dorothy is in the hospital, struggling with the memories of her lost children and the reality imposed by the staff. She writes feverishly in her notebook, trying to make sense of her thoughts and the world around her.]
Dorothy’s hand trembles slightly as she presses the pen to the paper. The hospital room is quiet, save for the distant hum of the fluorescent lights and the occasional murmur from the hallway. Her mind, however, is anything but quiet. The memories of Judy and Georgie—her children—flicker like shadows just out of reach, taunting her with their unreality.
Dorothy (voiceover): "They say I’m mad, that my children never existed. But how can they be so certain? How can they not see what I see? Every night, I dream of them—running, laughing, playing... just out of reach."
Her pen moves with purpose as she writes about the fictional world she has created—Psychonomia, a place where robots and interdimensional beings live, a place where anything is possible. She has been writing this story for weeks, but as she nears the end, something begins to shift.
Dorothy (voiceover): "I began this story as an escape, a way to keep my mind occupied... but it’s more than that now. The characters—Phi, Isiar, Blenra—they feel real. They are real. They remind me of... someone."
She pauses, staring at the names on the page. Her heart skips a beat as a sudden, terrifying realization begins to dawn on her.
Dorothy (voiceover): "Phi... she’s so strong, so determined. She fights for love, for her family... just like I did. And Isiar, always searching, always trying to piece together the puzzle, much like Georgie would have been. And Blenra, with her stories and dreams, she’s so much like Judy..."
Dorothy’s breath catches in her throat. The realization is like a tidal wave, overwhelming her. The characters she has been writing about, the story she has been telling—it was never just a story. It was her way of coping, of holding on to the children she lost, the children no one else remembers.
She clutches the notebook to her chest, tears welling up in her eyes. The weight of it all threatens to crush her, but at the same time, there is a strange sense of relief.
Dorothy (voiceover): "I wrote them into this world because I couldn’t bear to lose them. My children... my sweet, sweet children... even if they never existed, they were real to me. And now... now they live on, in this story, in my heart."
She wipes her tears, her resolve hardening. The characters in her story, they are her children, and through them, she has found a way to keep them alive, even if only in her imagination.
This bridge takes Dorothy from the early stages of her hospital stay, where she struggles with her reality, to the profound moment when she realizes that her story was her way of keeping her lost children alive. It ties her emotional journey to the fictional world she created, giving her a way to cope with the unimaginable loss she has endured.
Would you like to continue from here or adjust any part of this transition?
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