All language subtitles for Red_Shoe_Diaries_S02E07_480p_WEBRip_BTW_30NAMA

Stella, you caught me.

Interesting, isn't it?

Whenever I'm feeling lonely or rotten, I
can just rip open one of these letters

and there it is.

Someone's soul laid out before me. Their
darkest dreams, their hopes and their

fears.

I listen to this one.

Have you ever noticed how good-looking
most of them are?

And strong.

And committed.

And brave.

October 12th.

Dear diary, the dogs and cats were jumpy
today.

I was too.

It's kind of like that feeling you get
before an earthquake or a plane crash.

Sort of a low-grade fever.

A prickly itch underneath the skin.

Damn.

Even Dr. Martin was not his usual self.

It could have been the Santa Anas.

The full moon.

The overall effects of global warming.

Whatever.

That weird feeling was getting more
palatable with each passing moment.

The freeway was jammed on the way home,
so I got off on Sepulveda, got lost,

and ended up on streets I never knew
existed.

I tried to remember ever being held that
way.

Only once, maybe.

I was two or three, and I had the croup,
and my dad held me in his arms and

walked back and forth.

And even though it was late and he was
tired, he just kept walking and singing

until the sun came up and the cough went
away.

That night, when I finally fell asleep,
I dreamt of water

and of fire and the fireman.

Water.

Sometimes I dream I'm floating in water.

Floating with my arms outstretched with
nothing around me.

No sound.

Nothing.

I woke up in the middle of the night,
covered with sweat, burning with shame.

Most of my life, I've stayed calm and
cool by avoiding personal questions.

Today, I had to work doubly hard not to
ask myself anything.

And most of all, not to give any
answers.

Come here.

Sit down.

You're hot.

I... Open your mouth.

I... Just put your head back a little
bit.

Bet you didn't know I was a real medical
doctor, did you?

Yeah,

I practiced for a while.

But I wasn't cut out for putting up with
people.

102, we're definitely coming down with
something.

Why don't you take the rest of the day
off?

If you feel better, you come back
tomorrow.

Dr. Martin gave me the day off.

I should have gone to the library.

But just for the heck of it, I drove by
the fire station instead.

I was sort of like that dog that bit Dr.

Martin.

I just couldn't let go.

Still, questions kept crowding into my
head.

Like, was there ever a time when I felt
what he was feeling?

Proud and strong and totally triumphant.

Had I ever run like the wind?

Had I ever known danger?

Had I ever taken a step into the
unknown?

When was the last time I was close
enough to fire to get burned?

October 14th.

Dear diary, last night was no different
from the night before.

Dreams of water.

Dreams of fire.

Dreams of the fireman.

Over and over again.

Hello?

Hello, Dr. Mudd.

Yes, still.

I'll just lay low for a while.

Thank you for your concern.

No more questions.

Only answers, unwanted, unexpected, came
flooding down

on me.

The last time I was dizzy was when I was
five and blindfolded and someone was

spinning me around to pin the tail on
the donkey.

The last time I faced the danger of the
unknown was when I was six and my sister

dared me to go down into the fruit
cellar without a flashlight.

The last time I got close enough to get
burned by fire was when I was eight.

and I was lighting Christmas candles.

Have I seen you before?

The library.

The vegetarian restaurant over on Pinko.

Saturday afternoon Bible.

You take care, okay?

place for a nice girl like you to be
alone.

Dreams of water.

Dreams of fire.

Maybe it was the fever that made me do
it.

I don't know.

I wondered how many people were making
love at that same time.

Thousands and thousands.

Millions, maybe.

Mouths together.

Bodies together.

Hearts beating in time.

Two people together in restaurants and
restrooms and beds and cars.

On couches and under tables.

On park benches.

In bushes under the stars.

Am I the only one alone?

The other day... Yeah?

When you were talking about how you
weren't cut out for treating people and

you liked animals instead.

Yeah.

Well, I was wondering why.

Well, first of all, animals don't bite
as hard as people do.

Their scars don't take so long to heal.

You know what I mean?

And second of all, animals don't talk
back.

Who do they shame?

Don't you sometimes wish they did?

I mean, wouldn't it be nice if Sam could
tell you what's bothering him?

I mean, it'd be so simple if you could
just say, how are you doing, Sam? And he

could say, well, I've got a sharp pain
in my heart.

But you don't look sick.

You look different.

You look good.

That's two blocks away.

Dreams of water.

Dreams of fire.

I thought about my life stretching ahead
like a desert.

No hearts on fire for me.

No glaze of glory.

That's the trouble with deserts.

Just heat waves and hills that all look
alike.

You climb one hill and there's another.

And pretty soon you're saying, I don't
know if I can keep this up.

Something's gotta give.

dreams of water, dreams of fire, dreams
of the

fireman.

Dreams of water.

Dreams of fire.

Dreams of the fireman.

Over and over again.

This must have been what I was sensing
all along.

Not an earthquake or the ozone breakup
or the riots or the global warming,

but something breaking and quaking and
rioting and warming inside of me.

Like I had no idea I was a peeping Tom.

Or a voyeur.

Or a hypochondriac, for that matter.

But I was.

And that surprised me.

And pleased me.

And made me happy.

And I figured there was no place else to
go.

And nothing left to do.

And I couldn't stop myself.

And so I did the craziest thing of all.

I, uh...

I know it's early, and I know it sounds
crazy, but I just... No, I don't want

you to be alarmed.

My fever seems to be gone.

I'm feeling fine, I just... I'm sorry
for waking you.

I just... I was thinking... I mean, I
was wondering...

I mean, I was hoping maybe...

Do you want to talk?

Well, that's one way to go about getting
what you want, Stella.

Fighting fire with fire.

What do you think, Stella?

Good work?