A Simple Way to Make Dream Sequences and Flashbacks Work

A Simple Way to Make Dream Sequences and Flashbacks Work

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Dream sequences and flashbacks are often considered taboo in screenwriting books, articles, courses, and panels — along with their equally taboo cousin, narration. And all too often, rightfully so. But can screenwriters utilize them effectively without succumbing to the very misuses that made them so taboo in the first place?

Dream Sequences

Plenty of outstanding films have utilized dream sequences very well. Look no further than The Terminator, Terminator 2: Judgement Day, Inception, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Vanilla Sky, American Beauty, and Aliens.

The problem with this screenwriting “tool” is that screenwriters and studios have turned to utilizing them as a crutch — a way to solve a problem that they can’t otherwise solve through good ‘ole cinematic storytelling. Even the ending of The Wizard of Oz was a studio answer to their fear that the audience wouldn’t be able to accept fantasy elements of the film’s overall story and events, instead deciding to make it all something that Dorothy dreamed.

Screenwriters use dream sequences for a number of lackluster reasons.

How many horror films have showed lead characters being suddenly murdered or attacked, only to reveal that it was all just a dream? The writers con us into thinking that what we are seeing is real, only to shock us with a sudden attack or death and then cut to the lead character waking up suddenly.

It’s an easy scare tactic, but a fake-out nonetheless. One that tries to make it appear that the stakes have been raised, only to con us by not making it count by the end of the dream. It’s a frustrating tactic.

Other lackluster dream sequences are written to showcase inner feelings of characters, or as a way to communicate a blunt and obvious explanation of character and story arcs.

Whenever a dream sequence is used as filler to accomplish something that the writer can’t otherwise communicate within the narrative of the story, there’s an issue.

Flashback Sequences

Much like the case of dream sequences, plenty of films and television series have utilized flashbacks effectively — Citizen Kane, Titanic, The Usual Suspects, It’s a Wonderful Life, Forrest Gump, and television series like Lost.

Unfortunately, writers have turned to flashbacks to attempt a visual form of exposition.

Bad exposition is usually present in the form of dialogue within a screenplay, whether it’s to explain plot points, heighten the stakes, or to offer character background. Too many screenwriters mistake this type of exposition for plot development or character depth. And sometimes this is a direct result of script notes and feedback telling the screenwriter that they need higher stakes and more character development and depth. So they mistakenly turn to bad exposition in the form of dialogue dumps.

But then they read, remember, or are reminded that in screenplays, it’s a vital rule to show rather than tell. So what do they do? They turn those bad exposition dialogue dumps into flashbacks, thinking that they’ve solved the problem of that show versus tell conundrum.

Thus, bad and unnecessary flashbacks are born, used as a storytelling crutch that often results in nothing more than filler — visual information dumps, as opposed to dialogue dumps. Regardless, they are one in the same.

So How Do You Write Great Dream Sequences and Flashbacks That Work?

In the case of dream sequences, we mentioned the crutch of using them as ways for cheap scares that con the audience into thinking the lead character is in true danger. Well, Aliens utilized this very “crutch” within its narrative.

Cut to Ripley waking up in a sweat. A cheap scare? A screenwriter con? Not necessarily so.

Ripley is plagued by nightmares throughout the whole film as a direct result of the horrors she faced during the events of the first film. This is a specific character attribute that applies to her whole character arc throughout the film. She’s haunted by what she experienced and constantly warns the crew and military unit of what they refuse to accept — that they are walking into a nightmare that they will have no control over, no matter how much firepower and bravado they bring.

Furthermore, we constantly see Ripley struggle with nightmares and sleeping throughout the story. That initial dream sequence gives us a peek into her psyche and into those nightmares. We’ve seen the type of nightmares she has, and it resonates with us every time she awakens from her sleep, holding her chest.

In American Beauty, the fantasy sequences accentuate the lead character’s attraction and obsession with his daughter’s friend. It’s a stylistic choice to convey that information and help us understand how utterly obsessed he is with her. It’s a truly vivid attraction and obsession. It gives us context to what is going on in his mind every time his daughter’s friend appears in his life. It adds to the creepiness of it.

If you use dream sequences to convey themes and character arcs in that manner, there certainly is a place for them in your screenplay.

However, in a much broader aspect, dream sequences work best when they are woven into the structure of the story, as is the case with movies like Vanilla Sky, Inception, and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. When dream sequences are married to the structure you use to tell your cinematic story, they are no longer a tool — they are a part of the structure as a whole.

The protagonist in Vanilla Sky is struggling to ascertain what is real and what is not. The audience begins to see the story through his eyes in that respect as we question the same reality. It’s not a simple one-off to misdirect, convey an inner emotion, or offer a cheap scare. It’s part of the story.

When dream sequences are used as part of the structure, they are legitimized — as long as they play by the rules set up in the opening act and aren’t used as constant misdirects. If you’re trying to convey a theme, tone, and atmosphere of questionable reality or a unique relation between reality and dream, it can be an effective way to offer an original type of story and structure.

With flashbacks, the same notion applies. When you use them simply as a crutch for exposition or character “depth” you’re creating nothing more than filler that usually doesn’t pertain to the direct story you’re trying to tell. It can derail any story momentum.

However, when you weave flashbacks into the structure, you’re creating a unique or stylistic narrative.

Lost was masterful at using the flashback — and later the flash forward and flash sideways — as a structural mold. The present-day sequences always introduced thematic and character-driven elements to the story and then used the flashbacks to accentuate those themes and character arcs. The episodes didn’t just shift to a simple flashback to explain something. The flashbacks were organically shifted into and out of the present day story, always book-ended by a question being raised and a question being answered, and then later applied to the present day events upon the narrative return to that timeline.

Don’t use dream sequences or flashbacks as cheats. If you’re going to implement them, use them as a way to tell your story — as opposed to using them as an explanation for a character or story point.

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Weaving dream sequences and flashbacks into the structure of your screenplay’s story is the most simple way to make those otherwise taboo screenwriting “tools” work.

You won’t be accused of using them as filler. You won’t be guilty of bad visual exposition or conning the audience with cheap stakes and scares.

When they become part of the structure — throughout the whole script, mind you — you’ll only be “guilty” of employing a different way of telling a cinematic story. And in Hollywood, when you’re trying to stand out from the rest, “different” is good.

Don’t use them as a crutch. Don’t use them to solve a plot hole. Just use them as a way to tell your story.

Best Practices when Formatting a Flashback in a Screenplay

A flashback or dream, puts you into the mind of the character relating them. Helping draw us into their story and empathize with them. However, they disrupt the narrative flow and should only be used when a story can't be told chronologically.

Watch the video below for some proper formatting examples! 👇

__________________________________________________________________

Single Scene

If your flashback is only a single scene you may format your scene heading to include the word flashback in parentheses.

Like this:

INT. BEDROOM - DAY (FLASHBACK)

__________________________________________________________________

Sequence

A flashback sequence should start with a sub-header that reads (BEGIN FLASHBACK:), formatted as a General via StudioBinder's toolbar above the script and include a new scene heading for each scene within. Another sub-header takes us out of the flashback with the words (END FLASHBACK. "period included") followed by a new scene heading, typically the same as the scene heading prior to the flashback.

Like this:

BEGIN FLASHBACK:

INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
Kim rests her head on Mason's chest as they watch T.V.

               KIM
I'm really craving some cookie dough ice cream.
Do you mind running to the store?

               MASON
Anything for you, babe.

He kisses her on the forehead, gathers his keys and puts his shoes on and heads out of the house.

INT. FOYER - NIGHT
The doorbell RINGS. Kim gets up to see who it is. TWO POLICE OFFICERS are standing at the door, she opens it to greet them.

                POLICE OFFICER #1
Evening, ma'm.

                KIM
Evening, officers. How can I help
you?

                 POLICE OFFICER #1
Is your husband, Mason Owens?

                 KIM
Yes, is something wrong?

                 POLICE OFFICER #1
He was involved in a traffic
accident. I regret to inform you
that he did not make it.

Kim cries hysterically as she slumps to the floor.

END FLASHBACK.

INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

Flashbacks and dreams

September 10, 2003 Formatting, QandA

Should you make a special notation in scene headings that are flashbacks or dream sequences? If so, how?

–Michael Krieger

If the flashback is a single scene, then [FLASHBACK] is generally added to the end of the scene header, like this:

EXT. LOUVRE – DAY [FLASHBACK]

If you have multiple short scenes clumped together in a flashback sequence (for instance, the location is changing, but the time-frame is the same), then you can use [FLASHBACK] for each of those scene headings, or maybe [FLASHBACK, CONT’D].

When in doubt, just use common sense. If the flashback is really another sequence in the movie, like the three chapters in GO, then don’t put anything in the header.

The same logic applies for dream sequences, e.g. [DREAM SEQUENCE], with the caveat that sometimes you don’t want the reader to know at the head of the scene that it’s not real. So obviously, you wouldn’t put the tag there at all.

In general, try to read the script as if you didn’t write it, then see what’s clearest.

Keeping track of time

Words on the page

I have recently finished writing a screenplay with a friend. It takes place in present day. Towards the end of the first act, we go to a flashback, 30 years earlier to 1978, when the main character was 8 years old. After the flashback, we come back to November of the next year.

So if the beginning of the film was in December 2008, we then cut to flashback in 1978, and come back to November of 2009. How would we label, or denote this? We were going to put TITLE OVER: November of the following year.

We felt that doing this might confuse people more, in thinking that it is just one year later than the flashback. We’re confused and want to make sure the reader isn’t confused.

It’s not clear from your example whether it’s important that the reader (and ultimately the viewer) know that it’s specifically 2008 — for instance, that it’s an election year. Most likely, it’s not important at all. The story is just set in “present day,” which happens to be 2008 or 2009. So I’d avoid any mention of the year except for the flashback, which is mostly to give a sense of relative ages and period setting.

Specifically, I’d recommend the following:

·         Don’t say anything about the year until the flashback.

·         Before that, if it’s important that it be December, give us a concrete visual (e.g. Christmas shopping) that lets us know the month, rather than a title over.

·         For the flashback, don’t do a title over for the year. Just include [1978] in the sluglines.

·         When you return to the present, mark [PRESENT DAY] in the first slugline. You don’t need to continue it after that.

·         If you need to show that 11 months have passed, give us a clear story indicator. Something or someone has grown or changed in the interim. (If nothing has changed, why are you jumping forward anyway?)

A project I’m currently writing moves forward a lot in time, much in the way The Godfather or Goodfellas does. At first, my instinct was to carefully label all the time cuts, but it quickly became clear that what mattered wasn’t the months but the forward progress of the story. Readers can keep up with you if they’re engaged.

Can I go beyond DAY and NIGHT?

Is there a hard and fast rule for first time screenwriters correctly writing their slug lines? I understand that it is for the production people to know WHERE and WHEN to shoot the scene. But I’ve also been told on the boards of quite a few screenwriting forums by supposed professionals, that it is NOT part of your story and so you only ever write DAY or NIGHT.

I’m told that if you want readers to know it’s foggy or stormy you tell them as “part of the story” in the action lines below. Yet in many of the spec scripts I’ve seen online, writers use CONTINUOUS, SAME, LATER etc in their slugs. Is it only solicited writers who’ve already been green lighted for production that have the privilege of writing beyond the binary of DAY or NIGHT? I find that hard to believe this when software like Final Draft allows you to be more expressive in your slugs, and still, I’m continually told otherwise.

It would be much appreciated if you could clear up this issue that has confused, infuriated and made me less confident in my writing now for far too long. I’m sure I’m not the only one.

— Tim
Ischia, Italy

Sluglines are there to help production, but they also help readers. If venturing slightly beyond the confines of DAY or NIGHT makes the read easier, do it.

All of the following are legit:

INT. HOUSE – DAY

INT. CABIN – NIGHT

EXT. FOREST – DAWN

EXT. SPACE

EXT. PARKING LOT – NIGHT [RAINING]

INT. BOWLING ALLEY – NIGHT [FLASHBACK]

The first two are obvious and standard.

DAWN is okay, as long as there really is a reason the scene needs to be taking place close to sunrise, rather than just general DAY. For example, if you were following characters through a string of harrowing night scenes, and they bunkered down in an abandoned railway car, it might be important to really note when it’s dawn again. Same case for DUSK or SUNSET. In a vampire movie, that could be crucial.

Space has no day or night. Generally in science fiction there is a sense of what “day” and “night” feel like, however. So feel free to use it on a spaceship, for example, to indicate the daily routines.

I use brackets at the end of a slugline to highlight special conditions. Rain is a big deal, both for story and production purposes. And flagging a scene as a flashback helps both readers and assistant directors.