I just saw “Inception” for the first time, and I thought to myself while I was watching, ‘I don’t get it… What’s so confusing, they’re dreaming that they’re in a dream, while they’re in a dream of a dream of a dream.’ It made perfect sense to me. Like clockwork, gears moved in my head in a pace that was so fast it could’ve been called mechanical. Synapses were firing at speeds that put light to shame, everything was copacetic, until… I got the ending… So I watched it again. And again. And again. And again. And again. And again.
AND AGAIN!!! Why? Because I need to understand everything, but what’s more, I’ve discovered something about myself. Apparently the ending to inception has the effect of causing my body to want to riot through the streets, and scream at the top of my lungs and fire guns into the sky like it’s the fourth of July, but I’m celebrating in Mexico (where it’s okay to fire guns wherever you want, because it’s Mexico, who really gives a shit? Apparently not the cartel, BAZINGA!)
So anyway, long story short, Inception is one of those movies that’s fucking amazing for 99% of the movie up until they throw this weird uncertain, “We’ll leave it to you to draw your own conclusions” type of story ending. It’s fucking bullshit, and it makes me want to punch Christopher Nolan right in his cajones, that’s mexican for nutsack (Or testicles if your a prick doctor), haha see what I did there?