A Year Of the Rooster (Tom Hiddleston One-Shots)

June 2016 - Meadow

Damn it! I woke from the same dream again. I can still feel the tall wheat in the meadow as it touched my fingertips, and see the pollen from the cottonwoods floating through the air.

I can even see him as clearly as I see the ceiling of my hotel room at which I'm now staring. Captain Nicholls, gazing at me from across the meadow, riding slowly toward me while barely disturbing the wheat. I continued to walk toward him, gently brushing my fingertips along the tops of the grain much like skimming one's fingertips across the surface of placid water.

"Hello," he said, tipping his hat to me slightly.

"Hello," I replied, staring up at him. Suddenly, there was a crack of gunfire, and he fell from the horse, covered in blood.

"All I wanted was some coffee..." he said before dying in my arms.

I try to shake off the image. I hate stress dreams! I think, getting up to start some coffee even though it's only 4:15 am. That must be it...my body's craving caffeine. It will be 6:30 soon enough. After all, there's no rest for the wicked...nor cinematographers.

It's my first film with Steven Spielberg. Steven rarely takes on new crew, preferring to work with those whom he has experience. My break came because (a) his cinematographer retired and (b) I recently worked with up-and-coming director David Lowery. Apparently, I've garnered a reputation as a cinematographer who's able to look at things...well, from a different angle. Literally. I've actually been known to lie on the grass, imagining animal shapes in the clouds before turning to look at the scene to be filmed. Much like my idols, Gregg Toland with Citizen Cane or Winton Hoch with The Searchers, I love when I can present something from a different point of view.

I put on my daily uniform - faded blue jeans, an old pair of Doc Martens, a geeky t-shirt (today, it's my 'You know he's evil because he has a goatee' Spock shirt), and a hoodie - and walk to gather first my messenger bag and then bicycle to ride to the filming sight. We're shooting a period piece in Sheridan, Wyoming. It's a story about early settlers in the American west, and it's portrayed in vignettes. I won't get to work on all of them, but today I get the privilege of seeing Tom Hiddleston in action. Hence the stress dreams of War Horse. Or, at least that's what I attribute them to. Maybe it's more that I'm working with one of my favorite actors. I mean, come on! Who wouldn't swoon over someone who is equally capable of portraying a delusional Asgardian god; a centuries-old, time-weary vampire; and a stumbling-drunk yet brilliant country legend?

I ride to the set to find much of the prep for the day is already in motion. I can see Tom off in the distance talking to one of our wranglers while stroking his horse's neck. He looks my direction then mounts his horse, riding slowly toward me.

Talk about a gaucho guapo! I'd ride that cowboy any day of the week and twice on Sundays! I think before I can control my baser thoughts. He's not yet dressed as his character, instead wearing jeans, a white t-shirt covered by a blue flannel button-up, and his trusty brown boots. His hips sway with the canter of his horse, and it almost seems he's an extension of the magnificent animal on which he is mounted.

A slow smile graces his lips, and I can't help but return it. I start to walk in his direction, despite the impending deja vu I feel creeping up my spine.

"Hello," he says to me as he stops his horse in front of me.

"Hello', I reply, then I hear it. The sharp crack of gunfire - probably some of the supporting actors practicing their gunplay with blanks before the big shootout scene.