(no subject)
My subconscious knows of my dyslexia. I don’t know why I never noticed this fact before, but last night’s dream was a dozy.
My old college roommate, Grant, found work for me on the new John Barrowman tour. I built the sets at the new theaters and tore the sets down to ship to the next location. The set was mostly black screens with colored lights secured behind. While I wasn’t allowed to see the show, I was left with the impression that it was a Broadway musical review.
During the show, I would wander around whatever town we were in. During the dream, I was in some South America city that I couldn’t pronounce. I called it “Borneo.” Even in my dreams, I’m dyslexic.
After the show, the whole crew was invited to a government VIP’s estate for a late dinner. His house was four stories tall on a large plot of manicured land. Throughout the gorgeous high ceiling house, fine art either hung on every wall or stood on pedestals in ever corner. The VIP bragged about his solid marble floors all through his home. Every floor, every room had a highly polished, marble floor of a different color. I felt uncomfortable with the flagrant display of wealth, not to mention fairly sure my klutzy self would break something far too expensive. I ended up skipping out before dessert.
As I made my way up to the road, I noticed the creepy guy from the party who was not part of the cast or crew following. He kept pace, never quite closing the gap between us. I doubled back over the estate, cutting through the small orchard of fruit trees towards the house. I walked up a huge hillside that ran along side of the house. At the top, I discovered that the hill ended at the roof of the house. Through a glass sky light, I looked down to the dinner party on the first floor - all the way down. Four stories of down.
Ugh. Creepy guy shuffled up the hill. After finding the roof top access, I took off my shoes as instructed upon first entering the house. No shoes were allowed to be worn inside. The creepiest thing in the world: trying to quickly, but without running, get away from someone in your socks on a highly polished marble floor.
I felt like Hammy. “Less claws, more pads.” I was using my pads! I had no claws!
From the third floor to the second, I used the narrow, circular staircase. The walls were made of marble as well. Sliding against the walls as I went down, I hopped on the stairs with one foot, praying I wouldn’t fall, as I took the sock off my other foot. By the bottom, I had both socks off and made a clean get away.
My old college roommate, Grant, found work for me on the new John Barrowman tour. I built the sets at the new theaters and tore the sets down to ship to the next location. The set was mostly black screens with colored lights secured behind. While I wasn’t allowed to see the show, I was left with the impression that it was a Broadway musical review.
During the show, I would wander around whatever town we were in. During the dream, I was in some South America city that I couldn’t pronounce. I called it “Borneo.” Even in my dreams, I’m dyslexic.
After the show, the whole crew was invited to a government VIP’s estate for a late dinner. His house was four stories tall on a large plot of manicured land. Throughout the gorgeous high ceiling house, fine art either hung on every wall or stood on pedestals in ever corner. The VIP bragged about his solid marble floors all through his home. Every floor, every room had a highly polished, marble floor of a different color. I felt uncomfortable with the flagrant display of wealth, not to mention fairly sure my klutzy self would break something far too expensive. I ended up skipping out before dessert.
As I made my way up to the road, I noticed the creepy guy from the party who was not part of the cast or crew following. He kept pace, never quite closing the gap between us. I doubled back over the estate, cutting through the small orchard of fruit trees towards the house. I walked up a huge hillside that ran along side of the house. At the top, I discovered that the hill ended at the roof of the house. Through a glass sky light, I looked down to the dinner party on the first floor - all the way down. Four stories of down.
Ugh. Creepy guy shuffled up the hill. After finding the roof top access, I took off my shoes as instructed upon first entering the house. No shoes were allowed to be worn inside. The creepiest thing in the world: trying to quickly, but without running, get away from someone in your socks on a highly polished marble floor.
I felt like Hammy. “Less claws, more pads.” I was using my pads! I had no claws!
From the third floor to the second, I used the narrow, circular staircase. The walls were made of marble as well. Sliding against the walls as I went down, I hopped on the stairs with one foot, praying I wouldn’t fall, as I took the sock off my other foot. By the bottom, I had both socks off and made a clean get away.