| -The Electric Daisy. | -X.

[LAST SEASON ON : The Legend of Supacree}DILLON HART FRANCIS is laying in a lush green meadow, centered in a field of daisies dressed in all white. Though I’m not sure we’re meant to be, I’m sure that we could be; Or have been— But that’s just me; My memory expands further than the eyes see; You’re like me, But likely, Another lesson I needSo here I am Rolling in the deep Keeping secrets, Sleeping with my grip Tightly wrapped around the key; A lock that doesn’t open, Another thing I don’t need; And I don’t need you, But I’m thinking that I probably shouldn’t thinkI need a drink— (Of love)Another drink— (Of blood) It’s something wonderful, or was A pigeon turned to dove, And then a duck, Right before my eyes I’d be lying if I said I never cried so muchOver oneLustful Stunning Something What? You woke me up for nothingI was someone in my dream, And now I’m up, And I’m no one I’m no one, huh But funny, sometimes Why me? I just keep on writing, I just keep on writing I just keep on writing I’m deprived, I’m not alive anymore— No one ever loved me before. He certainly must be dead; he thinks; his bright blue eyes glisten in the light, and as they begin to change, one single daisy stands out to him–unmoving, he stares at it, her petals rustling in the light breeze of the wind, however–they, too, begin to change. He takes a slow, deep breath in, still, however unmoving, as the daisy seemingly begins to dance and glisten; now he seems curious at best, but still unmoved. The daisy begins to flutter and twinkle, dazzling as the light seems to move around it, the meadow fading into a picturesque blur as the flower blooms, now changing color into a swirling array of flashing colors, now emitting a lulling hum– a peaceful and calming lullaby of frequencies and tones, cosmic and otherworldly and yet somehow natural and familiar; Dillon becomes flush with bewilderment and awe, as the daisy continues to flash strobing patterns of lights and colors, now opening and growing as its petals stretch out, reaching into a flush and glorious cascade of pure white light–as his eyes widen, he moves slightly towards it; it opens up and swallows him whole. INT. LIVING ROOM. DAY THOMAS WESLEY PENTZ is slightly stunned, still glued to his screen; his good friend DILLON FRANCIS, an actor, has invited him over to watch his newest movie.What the fuck. The daisy returns to its natural state, and a warm wind blows through the sunlit field. FADE TO BLACK. What the fuck did I just see. I swear, you’re in the weirdest movies, dude –He turns to his side to see an empty space on the couch where Dillon had once been sitting. Dillon? He looks about the room confusedly, then pauses the movie, getting up from the couch and starting to the kitchen. Dillon. Your movie’s weird, bro. However, the kitchen is empty. He approaches the counter, where GERALD is placed–he looks awkwardly at the pinata, staring into his eyes before turning it around.Ugh. He departs to search for Dillon in the bathroom. Dillon! Where you at, bro? I paused the movie! He checks the bathroom; also empty. YO! He turns down the hallway, hearing the sound of the shower running–Are you in the shower?No response. I’m not about to come into your shower bro; it’s weird and random that you’re in the shower when you invited me over to watch your movie.Still, no response. Bro! Again, silence–the shower continues running. Alright…you better not be naked.He steps into the master bedroom, the steam of the hot shower crawling out of the master bathroom and into the bedroom. Are you okay? He winces as he looks into the master bathroom, shower running at full power and the room filled with steam, to the point that even the roof is condensating; a drop of water drips from the ceiling and into his left eye––fuck––rubbing his eye, he observes the room to be empty–his friend is nowhere to be found; He is in the house alone. COMING UP: "The Insomniac" I could no longer withstand the fuckery; Skrillex was running around the world looking like a mountain man, surrounded by beautiful women and creating upper-echelon music i could only ever drea myself to make; Porter Robinson had just gotten married to a 90-pound porcelain doll-looking girl who I’m sure never had to work in her life (and never would) in the fairytale wedding of the century, attended by the world’s top-DJ’s (at least the ones who didn’t have cemented-in performance conflicts, probably), and Dillon Francis, who was so much of a copycat that I assumed or rather even feared he would soon engage and marry his very own cookie cutter white girl, leaving me in the dust and rubble of the unfinished festival project, thousands of pages of Skrillex and Dillon Francis both respectively and collectively– with nowhere to go but in my own way, my love for their music a gaping hole in my my heart and my soul wraking havoc from what I had seen, felt, and experienced in all he fuckery; my fangirl-like social media frenzy was no more: I could nor would I bear to continue torturing myself just trying to wash the feelings out; I would always feel for them , in some way–and the inescapable truth now was that I had indeed become a professional DJ; though seemingly far from superstardom or fame at all, remembering that I had only ever even attempted to climb the social ranks with such depth and ambivalence for the chance of having either of those two by my side–as friends, lovers, collaborators or otherwise–now, I couldn’t care for much more than to move on--(or at the very least, up.)What a ridiculous life. And while it seemed to have all been for nothing, I knew after all that it wasn’t; only time would be able to tell and unravel the truth behind the mysterious chaos and magic in which we all had once intertwined. “At least I still have deadmau5.” My dirty little secret.{Enter The Multiverse} [The Festival Project.™]COPYRIGHT © THE FESTIVAL PROJECT 2023 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. © -U.