On earth-moving newscasts

I'm sitting on a couch in a dingy room styled in a '70s decor. Next to me sits a girl who's wearing one of those "scramble suits" from A Scanner Darkly, a movie I fell asleep watching and won't try to watch again (I like Philip K. Dick, though, so I might try the book). The suit constantly shifts and blends her appearance with pregenerated people. Eventually her suit settles on a horsey-looking girl with oversized eyeballs. I don't recognize her. We're watching TV.

The TV screen fills up the rest of the dream, like I'm sitting really close to it.

There's a breaking local newscast. A car dealership is having some sort of parade/demonstration on the highway. Hundreds of yellow Hummers and SUVs stand parked all over the highway and its shoulders. Saboteurs, however, have attacked the stationary caravan -- they're like the ELF. Hundreds of cars in every make and model converge on the SUVs, smashing into them at high speed. Before long, even the shiny new vehicles spring to life and do battle with the intruders, and the news chopper's aerial shot shows the highway as a dusty, smoky, high-speed bumper car match. Whether anybody's in the cars is unknown, but there are people responsible and people retaliating.

The manager of the SUV dealership, a stereotypically angry, obese businessman, stands watching the chaos from a grassy knoll in the middle of his car lot. He's yelling, tearing at his hair: first in rage, then extreme sorrow. He keels backward slowly, landing spread-eagle and exasperated as the news chopper's aerial camera shot, somehow in Extreme Close-Up, slowly zooms out, spinning idly clockwise.

As the shot spirals up and away, the knoll beneath him begins changing, spreading out from where he lies. The grass begins landscaping itself, as though made with stop-motion animation, into a hill that's half crop circle, half Zen garden, with sand seeming to bubble up from the ground.

And then suddenly it's not a news broadcast anymore; now some sort of disembodied voice -- like that of a shadowy crime boss who never shows his face -- begins talking over the video, saying something to the effect of, "It's time to move the earth, Bob. Lord knows you've had enough practice."

The screen begins cycling through still images of Bob lying sprawled on stretches of intricately designed landscapes, a loud click of an old-fashioned slide projector punctuating each one.

Image from A Scanner Darkly ganked from Boing Boing via Google image search.