Film has the potential to feel like a dream, projected to the screen straight from the subconscious of its auteur.

Dreams are images loaded with feeling.

I'm sitting in my room in a shared flat. It's 2015. I'm debating myself. Ever since the birth of my son who is now three years old, I can't get the certainty of death out of my head.
The panic attacks have become daily occurrences. I'm 23 years old and I can't think of anything anymore, other than the fact that one day I'll die and there will be only nothingness, or worse, loneliness.
I'm all alone with this, no one can keep you company when you go and dying won't be pretty.
It never is.

Of course I've known I'll die, theoretically, for most of my life, but for the past three years, I've been FEELING it - And that's a whole other thing.
I'm sitting on the couch under my bed, desperately arguing with myself that there IS meaning, there IS light, there IS happiness, there MUST be!
I don't need to be THIS terrified and sad all the time - There isn't even a concrete reason! Why do others not feel like this? Do battle rappers not know they'll die?
My room is sparsely furnished and all in all pretty empty.
It looks like the set of a 2000's J-Horror movie.

I'm back in my living room seven years later, watching Pulse. Somehow I've won those discussions eventually (or, more accurately, worked through the issue via my movie "Leon must die").
My son, now almost ten years old, is visiting for the weekend. He's asleep now. So is my girlfriend of six years, heavily pregnant. The sun is brightly shining outside. All is well.

There is an incredible amount of comfort in finding a feeling you once thought to be all alone with expressed so perfectly, so eloquently, in a piece of art that was made twenty years ago on the other side of the world.

Being human truly is a universal experience, I suppose.