I have to admire the sheer twisted and relentless commitment to the bit here, the compositions, Inde Navarrette bathed in shadow, jerky movements, standing in the corner of the room. Just a relentless bombardment of tension. The part where she speaks from within herself, the body as a shell holding her captive while sleeping, was amazing. Also the smashing of one's head against things trend in horror is an interesting one, perhaps some subconscious feeling we are all having, or…