When I was six or seven years old, I had a dream that I was a Jedi. I could will objects from across the room into my outstretched hands. I wielded a blue light saber. And I could fly...the last characteristic may have been a manifestation of a separate unconscious longing, but within the context of my dream, it was a sign of my “oneness” with the Force.

What can I say...I grew up with the Star Wars Trilogy. I saw the movies while I was still young and impressionable, and probably internalized their message somewheres along the way. They are a hallmark of my childhood, divided evenly between training at the skating rink and watching movies in my parents' living room. I think about Star Wars when I try to conjure some of the more sparkly moments of my youth. They are like a frame of reference for the way I remember things.

And it came full circle on Monday night. Iamnotawerewolf and I caught the 8:45 screening of Episode 3 after a day of being locked in one of McTrib's avid suites with unedited images of the Holocaust and uncensored tales of its survivors. Let us say that at that point, I could have handled any tragic or depressing subject matter that flew in my direction. Anakin Skywalker's anticipated transition to the Dark Side, specifically.

The moment of satisfaction and completeness came probably when the sets from the original trilogy crept into the picture. Ahhh, I said aloud. I see how the story wraps around. What a moment! Total actualization.

That may be a little bit on the dramatic side...but when something that has been such a great presence in your life finales, you gotta at least stop and think about it!

Now as to the technical merits of the movie itself, I pay no real mind. Kinda takes all the fun out of it. All I know is that I have a sudden urge to watch the original movies just to remind myself that good triumphs over evil. And that Vader ends up killing the Emperor.