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Dream #1
I’m back stage doing community theater in the gym from my elementry school. There’s no costumes, no one has memorized their lines and the director has taken ill. We’re doing some sort of shakespearian telling of a greek tragedy, The Odessey with lots of thee’s and thou’s tossed in. There is an audience of maybe 20 people, but they are seated at the back of the gym, in those fold-up metal chairs. There’s about 50 meters between the edge of the stage and the first of two rows of the audience.
The show starts and people begin reading their lines from the books. The first people are doing fair enough, but I suddenly realize that they’ve started with Scene 2, completely skipping, scene 1, which I’m supposed to be in. Back stage I tell evryone that after Scene 2 we’re going back to Scene 1, and just call the discontinuity, ‘Art’. (A tribute to Tarintino?)
Unfortunately, the other actor in my scene is nowhere to be found. The boyfriend of one of the other actors is milling about backstage; I take him by the collar, drag him over to a round table that has a few copies of the play on it. I tell him to read the part of Laserio.
Scene 1 starts with my line, which for some reason looks like pure Latin. As I start it, I give the reading my full gusto, jumping off the edge of the stage and ranting my lines, raving and stomping across the field of concrete between the stage and the audience. The book in one hand and my other hand a fist, I am at times keniving, then bold, agressive, then reserved. I read my lines reasonably well, but each time I finish my lines, I have to wait a few minutes while the boyfriend actor struggles to read the simple lines that he has. During my parts, he simply stands on the stage watching me as I release enough energy to supply the Western Power Grid into my lines.
The scene and the dream went on for several pages in the book. I wish I had taken the time to memorize the lines, I would write them here.
I don’t remember my dreams very often and this is only the second or third time I’ve ever written one down. I jumped out of bed and ran to my machine as soon as I realized I had lost the flow of the dream because I had woken up.
Meanings? I have no idea. Who were the people in the dream? I didn’t recognize any of them, though I had the strangest sense that the director of the play was my Personal Finance teacher from high school.