NIghtmares

Boy, I'm really tired.  And I have to be at rehearsal in half an hour.  I just had to take a moment and have a little calm moment.

I'm getting the feeling that actually doing this show is going to be a joy, and a breeze, especially compared to Stones in His Pockets.  But rehearsing it is another story.  I guess if I really consider it, I can't claim to be as tired as I was rehearsing Stones -- the memory of those dance rehearsals should be enough to stop that thought in its tracks -- but I have to say, I'm pretty weary.

I'm waking up exhausted a lot, 'cuz I'm remembering my dreams and I'm here to tell you:  I have some crazy-ass dreams.  I'm even more convinced that my subconscious blocks out my dreams 'cuz they're just too troubling, 'cuz this dream I had last night was just epic.

It was literally a miniseries.  I woke up several times during the night when it just got too weird but it picked up again as soon as I fell asleep.

I was in Manhattan and it was attacked by an invading army.  But the whole thing was very War of the Worlds-esque in that the only information to be had was through spotty reports on TV and radio, and the population was in chaos, running around trying to find their loved ones.  There were a couple of harrowing moments as I searched the faces on the crowded streets for friends or anyone I knew when suddenly I'd turn a corner and be presented with a battle going on.  I remember thinking at one point as bullets were flying everywhere, "I should be making more of an effort to duck here."

It's amazing how bloodthirsty I can be in my dreams.  There was one point where an enemy sniper was picking off innocent civilians from a high window, and some courageous soul in his building snuck up behind him and just shoved him out the window.  And I could see his face as he was about to hit the ground -- the horror of knowing what was about to happen to him.  And yet I was right there with the crowd that rushed over and defiled his already smashed corpse.  Amazing.

So somehow, I got out of Manhattan, and was making my way along the Jersey shore, along with the rest of the crowds of refugees.  At one point I looked off shore and could see an unbroken ring of naval vessels surrounding the New York area, and being immensely comforted by the strength of the US Navy... until I realized that those weren't US Navy ships out there.

So I turned inland, and somehow made my way into Pennsylvania.  I guess the idea was to try to make it home to my family.

Not far into Pennsylvania, though, I got stopped at a refugee camp where people were clogged up and unable to move in their flight from NYC.  Suddenly, out of nowhere, I saw Doug Rees and Janet Dickinson -- they'd apparently stopped to pee and get some food or something -- as they returned to their car to continue their flight.  And as I ran after them, calling out their names, hoping against hope that I wouldn't have to continue my flight alone, I woke up for the last time.  At that point, it was 9 a.m. and I had to be at rehearsal in two hours, and I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to know just how this dream turned out.

 I was finished with rehearsal around three o'clock and decided to go home and do some laundry, which turned into an evening of sitting around doing nothing -- until I realized it was nearly 8 p.m., and I was facing the prospect of going commando during rehearsal on Sunday.

Needless to say, I got up off my ass and did some laundry.  Which, sadly, has kept me up later than I'd really intended, since I got such a late start.