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“Sometimes, your only nightmare is reality,” cautions the tagline for the locally produced indie film The Lackluster Syndrome. In my case, that includes impending unemployment and a drinking problem, both of which I’ll gladly accept over the only nightmare I really remember from my youth, in which Ronald McDonald murdered my parents and took refuge in my basement. (Don’t think that it’s a coincidence that I prefer Wendy’s; their chili’s terrific, and I don’t have to dine in the presence of a potentially bloodthirsty clown.) But in the case of Brad (Carl Anthony Tramon), Lackluster’s protagonist, reality includes house arrest (for a drunk-driving accident), an addiction to painkillers, a cold-hearted paramour who doubles as his partner in jewel heists, 90 grand in debt to the ominously named “Bossman” for botching one of those heists, and, of course, the cheating heart that leads him into an affair with the predictably psychotic jogger who will ruin his life. Assuming, of course, Bossman’s hit men don’t do so first. The Washington Psychotronic Film Society presents the film at 8 p.m. at Dr. Dremo’s Taphouse, 2001 Clarendon Blvd., Arlington. $2 (suggested donation). (202) 736-1732. (Chris Hagan)