Another fucked up dream
I hate daylight savings time.
The Dream:
After much controversy, a director at my alma mater defies direct orders and greenlights his performance of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. From what I pick up, the university objects to the sexual content of the play. By the time I opt to take my seat (no more gossip to be heard in the halls), I end up in the front row on the end next to my friend (Paul - who I've never met in real life). The show issn't half-bad for a college production. At the end of the play, the actor that portrayed Romeo leaps up and proceeds to lecture the crowd about the play, its content and its use to society.
He calls upon my friend Paul to verify what he said to be true. Uncomfortable with the sudden spotlight, Paul stammers and agrees under duress. Romeo actor then pulls the stupidest move: he opens the floor for discussion.
I cannot stay in my seat. With my arm raised higher and straighter than anyone's, I'm a "Hoo! Hoo!" short of a Horshack. Paul starts to snicker along with other audience members. Since someone other than him causes a stir, the actor calls on me.
"Can we applaud now? It's not like all the stagehands and other actors did nothing - they worked hard to put this play on. Can we applaud their fine work?" Thanks to my years of theatric training, my voice echoes throughout the house. On a roll, I march up the carpeted stairs stage right and take the spotlight. I rage about the art standing for itself and screw whatever personal message any producer might have. Lecturing about Shakespeare's greatness, I shame the University for trying to ban it and I shame the director for grinding his axe at the cost of his students.
Storming off, I bang my way out of the theater building. It's one of the two detached building at my alma mater, the other being the art building. Marching across the parking lot, I need my badge to access the security door. I climb three flights to what I thought would be my dorm room. The rooms are gone. The beds rest head first to the outer all. Next to them are one chester drawers and one free standing closet. Attached to the headboard, one lamp illuminates each bed.
My RA informs me that this is new school policy. I ask her where the privacy is - can I bring in screens to section my bed off? She will check. In the meantime, I sit on my bed growing angrier. All the noise from the other girls echoes down and around the new housing halls. I know if I don't get out of there, I'll kill someone. Pulling my luggage from under my bed, I jam all my clothes into them. As I stand up, my RA tells me the rest of my personal affects are in storage. She hands me a key.
Leaving the building, I start to cry. That's where I wake up to the smell of bacon.
The Dream:
After much controversy, a director at my alma mater defies direct orders and greenlights his performance of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. From what I pick up, the university objects to the sexual content of the play. By the time I opt to take my seat (no more gossip to be heard in the halls), I end up in the front row on the end next to my friend (Paul - who I've never met in real life). The show issn't half-bad for a college production. At the end of the play, the actor that portrayed Romeo leaps up and proceeds to lecture the crowd about the play, its content and its use to society.
He calls upon my friend Paul to verify what he said to be true. Uncomfortable with the sudden spotlight, Paul stammers and agrees under duress. Romeo actor then pulls the stupidest move: he opens the floor for discussion.
I cannot stay in my seat. With my arm raised higher and straighter than anyone's, I'm a "Hoo! Hoo!" short of a Horshack. Paul starts to snicker along with other audience members. Since someone other than him causes a stir, the actor calls on me.
"Can we applaud now? It's not like all the stagehands and other actors did nothing - they worked hard to put this play on. Can we applaud their fine work?" Thanks to my years of theatric training, my voice echoes throughout the house. On a roll, I march up the carpeted stairs stage right and take the spotlight. I rage about the art standing for itself and screw whatever personal message any producer might have. Lecturing about Shakespeare's greatness, I shame the University for trying to ban it and I shame the director for grinding his axe at the cost of his students.
Storming off, I bang my way out of the theater building. It's one of the two detached building at my alma mater, the other being the art building. Marching across the parking lot, I need my badge to access the security door. I climb three flights to what I thought would be my dorm room. The rooms are gone. The beds rest head first to the outer all. Next to them are one chester drawers and one free standing closet. Attached to the headboard, one lamp illuminates each bed.
My RA informs me that this is new school policy. I ask her where the privacy is - can I bring in screens to section my bed off? She will check. In the meantime, I sit on my bed growing angrier. All the noise from the other girls echoes down and around the new housing halls. I know if I don't get out of there, I'll kill someone. Pulling my luggage from under my bed, I jam all my clothes into them. As I stand up, my RA tells me the rest of my personal affects are in storage. She hands me a key.
Leaving the building, I start to cry. That's where I wake up to the smell of bacon.