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Life is but a dream

My unconscious mind, she is so clever.

As if in answer to my post last night in which I chafed against the restraints of an ordered life, I dreamed that I was in a play.

The play was still being written as we went onstage--my sister and I. The house was packed. The audience knew they would be seeing something semi-improvised. We were having technical difficulties with sound. I was playing several roles (one of them Jackie Kennedy in a Chanel suit--go figure) and I was thinking through my characterizations and hoping desperately that I could remember something--anything--about my lines, which were scribbled on scraps of paper.

We hastened along corridors towards the stage, being advised and nudged and adjusted and handed script-bits by people with headsets and clipboards. It was, incredibly, more exciting than terrifying.

It was, now that I think about it, like a scene from an Aaron Sorkin show. Ha! Aaron Sorkin wrote my dream! \o/

Crossposted from Dreamwidth, where there are comments. | Comment at Dreamwidth.

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