As opposed to most of the articles we write on rednoW, we have made the assumption that you have already seen Inception and consequently have alluded to what might be "spoilers."  Go see the film.  Come back and process with us.

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Suddenly awakened from a deep sleep, I rolled over to reach for a sip of water and saw that it was 4:30 a.m. I sat up to clear my head; still shaking the residue from the dream I was in - one about Inception, which I had seen the night before. The dream was not about the movie itself per say, but about the post-film processing experience.  While walking out of the theater (in my dream), I panicked realizing that I was supposed to be part of the last "kick" of the film. I had missed this essential transport due to some daring pursuit that involved my little orange scooter.

I was stuck in the dream (that was within my current dream).  And according to the logic of the dream, I would have to place myself into the actual movie in order to be thrust from my dream into a reality in which I could truly wake.

I awoke.

And as I reached for my glass of water, I realized I was no longer dreaming...or at least I thought so.

Obviously, it didn't take long for Christopher Nolan, director and writer of Inception, to get to me.

How do we perceive what is real and what is dream, mirage, illusion?

Do you remember what you were doing on January 8, 2010?

Chances are you probably don't.  Unless, that is, you are one of the 3,600 people who live in the small town of Inuvik in the Northwest Territories of Canada.

After 30 days of complete darkness (thanks to the Earth's axial tilt and the orbit of the moon) a 100,000 lumen, 36-foot wide helium balloon lit up the town's sky, drawing the Inuvik residents together to celebrate in wonder and, for the first time in a month, light.

In a brilliant move of emotional marketing, the folks at Tropicana took the time, paid the money, and traveled the distance to restore "sunlight" to the people of Inuvik...while of course taking the opportunity to give away several cases of free OJ.  All because Tropicana believes "brighter mornings make for brighter days."

Who is Mister Brainwash? This is not the question I expected to be addressed by the world's most renown and elusive street artist, Banksy, in his directional debut, Exit Through the Gift Shop. (If you are unfamiliar with Banksy's work, read our previous write-up first.) But as it is with most of Banksy's work, things are not always what they seem.  A week removed from experiencing the film and I am still uncertain if I watched a documentary founded in realism or one massive hoax turned social commentary.

Expecting to witness 90 minutes of Banksy's life, art, and aversion of law enforcement, I sighed with disappointment when Banksy reveals in the film's opening segment that Exit Through the Gift Shop is really more of a story about the man who set out to make a documentary about him than (Banksy) himself.  And when Banksy claims this filmmaker is "a lot more interesting than [himself]," I became intrigued.