An Awesome Dream

 

            I am a kid who puts A Lot of stock into dream analysis.

           This means I've studied dreams, and palmistry and Tarot as well as just having common sense and an understanding of our unconscious because  I took two psych classes. That's how that works, right? Now I know everything.

        Connections and History:

        On 17 Sept, 2009, I received a phone call that devastated me and changed my life. A former student of mine, Felker, had committed suicide. When I heard Kaylen's voice on the phone ask me if his sister had called me, I started to ask "Why would she call me---" and I collapsed. The only reason she would call would be his death.

    The dramatic scene that ensued is between me and the students I was rehearsing at the time.

    Felker had been the first kid to attach to me. The first of the group who my husband called '"The Lost Boys". He arrived early every day knowing I did as well, and waited first by the inside door in the hallway, and eventually by the dock door. I brought him orange juice from Starbucks, which he didn't drink but didn't tell me it upset his stomach. He didn't want to insult me. He stood maybe 5'2' and likely weighted 100 pounds soaking wet. He shaved his head bald, and had arresting clear blue eyes and wore heavy steel toed Docs. He was lost, he was sad, he was smart and he attached to me very quickly.

    Within  my first year, he had become my only stage manager. Kids respected him without any hesitation. I told him he walked quietly and carried a big stick.

    As long as I was at Littleton, I felt him in the theatre. I wasn't the only one. I had a future stage manager call over the headset that someone was under the stair unit of our Noises Off set, but when she investigated nobody was there. I was in the booth. I clearly saw a bald head. This was our second go round of the show, and the first production Felker had been SM and the stair unit had become unsteady half way through the show. He crawled underneath and held it up until it could be reinforced.

    There are a million more stories, but you get it. Techie, SM, short, bald kid.

    SECOND you need to know the Edward Albee quote "Sometimes a person has to go a great distance in the wrong direction to come back a short distance correctly."

    So I am not a job hopper, but this fall I worked in three different buildings. I chose to stick at Kennedy where I can rebuild a very small but mighty theatre department. I already played the powerhouse game, and I played the Rebuild and Have A Narcissist Shut You Down game. I'm in a building that is kind and supportive. Not all the kids want theatre and that's OK. I've spend some time wondering if I've finished my journey and come back a short distance correctly. No power hungry psycho principals, or stupid narcissists with no vision, both with dimwitted bull dogs to do their dirty work. Just regular people who want a nice theatre for their kids. Feels good. It's not perfect, it's high school, a title 1 and the kids can be rough. But it's heaven compared to my hell the last few years.

            The Dream

    Today I was out sick, and I fell asleep about noon. 

    The dream was comforting, comfortable and familiar. Felker and I were in a white room. There was a blue mic cord plug on the wall and a set of stairs leading "up" to somewhere. Everything was white and calm. We had "the right mic", which had a blue base. Plugged in, my voice was beautiful. I sang "Heroine" by Sinead O'Conner and The Edge, a song I've not listened to in probably 30 years, let along sang.  We just existed and I sang and it was beautiful and calm and perfect. 

    Then, there was a glitch, someone else entered and we no longer had the blue based mic. Felker was annoyed, looking for "the right mic". I found a white "Mr Microphone" machine whose mic had a blue head. It sounded just fine to me, maybe a little tinny, but Felker was unsettled because it wasn't exactly the right mic. I was aware of someone else, holding the mic with the blue base, walking up the stairs and away from us. Felker looked at me and furrowed his brow. He was mad that they had our mic. I didn't care, I had a mic, it didn't matter that it wasn't the fancy one. Who cares, they sound almost the same. I was debating whether I was supposed to follow the person and climb the stairs to retrieve the "right mic", or if Felker was going to do it.

    And then I woke up.

    SCENE