Mystery REM Theater 3000
Well, my subconscious decided to dump out and sort through its junk drawer last night. I was either back in high school or having a really, intense dream-memory of an incident in high school where our drama teacher was putting on a play which retold the story of an avant garde (or experimental I'm not sure which) playwright. In the course of this play there were several "plays within the play" that sampled this playwright's works. Opening night, the curtain lifted to a scene from the playwright's "The Actions Inside A Washing Machine" where we had groups of students clustered together according to the colors of the jumpsuits they were wearing. They then began jumping up-and-down, spinning around in place and throwing balloons at each other. Apparently, this so offended one of the school board members in the audience that the play was shut down immediately.
Our drama teacher wasn't to be deterred. She took us to the school library where she announced she had a plan to save the production. She started trying to move the bookcases to clear some room to show us, but just ended up knocking several over, so we then had to pick up a bunch of books and re shelve them. This was complicated by the fact that the library was also doubling as a jewelry store and we also had to start picking up valuable finished pieces and loose gems, put them back and make sure none of them walked off (figuratively speaking).
I then seemed to jump to my adult years and I was dressed up to go see that play put on in a professional theater. I don't get to see it, however, because a frightened lady pulls me aside to tell me that I'm the next target of a serial killer. I soon find out the specifics. The serial killer has been irreparably crippled by his last chosen victim, so I am the target of the crippled serial killer's rather inept assistant. All the same, I take a train for Knoxville hoping to lose him (for some reason, I didn't have my car, only my bicycle and riding a bike in a skirt and heavy wool coat isn't easy).
However, the train was commandeered by the Korean Army (I think South rather than North) and used to swing by one of their camps to pick up troops to transport. I woke up as we pulled into one of the camps...And Orlando Bloom who was (and I kid you not) in his Legolas make-up and wearing a Korean uniform was the commandant.
Our drama teacher wasn't to be deterred. She took us to the school library where she announced she had a plan to save the production. She started trying to move the bookcases to clear some room to show us, but just ended up knocking several over, so we then had to pick up a bunch of books and re shelve them. This was complicated by the fact that the library was also doubling as a jewelry store and we also had to start picking up valuable finished pieces and loose gems, put them back and make sure none of them walked off (figuratively speaking).
I then seemed to jump to my adult years and I was dressed up to go see that play put on in a professional theater. I don't get to see it, however, because a frightened lady pulls me aside to tell me that I'm the next target of a serial killer. I soon find out the specifics. The serial killer has been irreparably crippled by his last chosen victim, so I am the target of the crippled serial killer's rather inept assistant. All the same, I take a train for Knoxville hoping to lose him (for some reason, I didn't have my car, only my bicycle and riding a bike in a skirt and heavy wool coat isn't easy).
However, the train was commandeered by the Korean Army (I think South rather than North) and used to swing by one of their camps to pick up troops to transport. I woke up as we pulled into one of the camps...And Orlando Bloom who was (and I kid you not) in his Legolas make-up and wearing a Korean uniform was the commandant.