"I'm not in an objective, rational world." That's Wiley Wiggins' character's explanation for his existence in "Waking Life." He's dreaming. Or he's dead. Or he's experiencing the dream-like infinite state of recent death. It doesn't matter which. His neurology is working. He is connecting with other people and their ideas, even if they are all just part of his brain, or his imagination. Whether this world is tangible or not, it doesn't make sense. And he's trying to figure it out.

      The beauty of this film is that Linklater puts you right there with all of his characters and their minds -- he gives you what these people hypothesize might be the meaning of life: mental interaction. Getting to know each other. Thinking. Fun. Art.

      It's about sleep and wakefulness, love and philosophy, confusion and lucidity. Television and burritos. It's everything and nothing. It's poetry. It's words with vision.

      One of the characters, a coffee-shop novelist tells us, "There's no story. It's just people, gestures, moments, bits of rapture, fleeting emotions. In short, the greatest story ever told." Am I dreaming, or is he right?