Shudoranto!

Hnh... a theatre dream

I don't usually have theatre dreams.  This one was so vivid, I had to get it written down some way before I forgot.

Last night, I had a dream that was like one of those TV movies from the early 90's where they have actors from all over the place come in for a star-studded event.  The action took place in Coughlin-Saunders.  We were rehearsing a Cole Porter musical.  I had intended to look up the  music I remember from the dream and see what musical it was in, but I've now forgotten the songs. 

Lemme hurry and get out the names of the people in my dream:  Scott Gilbert was directing, Rebecca Taylor May was there, Christine Andres (I dunno her married name) was our accompanist, Lauren Ryland was an actor, Matt Henry was doing his usual schtick at CSPAC, Kody Walker was there as a mention, but didn't make an actual appearance. 

And poo, that's all I can remember. 

(For what it's worth, here's a bit of a character guide: Gilbert and Rebecca are both people from Lousiana Tech, Christine was a childhood friend, a cousin of a friend from church,  Lauren Ryland is a young student who does shows with Family Playhouse.  Her mom serves on the board of directors.  Kody is also from Family Playhouse/local Alexandria theatre scene.  Matt Henry also from the local theatre scene.  He was the musical director of my first City Park Players show.)

The first memory of the dream involved me sitting centerstage as the set continued being loaded in.  I decided to stand up when 3 battons flew in around me, one of them hitting my shoulder, but not hurting me terribly.  That didn't stop me from going off on Christine about not calling out that they were flying in battons.  Weirdly, Matt didn't say anything, since he's usually a person you can trust to defend the rules, especially when there's a good reason for a rule, like keeping a person from getting hit with a falling batton.  Perhaps because he was also flying in one of the battons that didn't hit me.  We called the cast and crew around to give a refresher on call and response, except I couldn't hear what Matt was saying so I wanted to make sure I was able to explicitly say what needed to be said.  I had to give up.

2nd vignette:  After that, I started wandering around looking for my costume so I could get ready for dress rehearsal.  Christine passed by and we walked backstage to a large lobby area with glass walls as I tried to apologize for yelling.  My reason may have been noble, but my form was not.  She was okay, all had already been forgiven.  In between the batton incident and now, she had found her fiance (an unrecognizeable character in this dream) and was telling him stories about a group trip we took together.  I was apparently very entertaining in the airport.   I left them to go find my costume.

3rd vignette: I ended up backstage and the rehearsal had started.  The lights were low, and Lauren Ryland was being harnessed to fly and was singing some song about dancing.  By this point, I realize my costume is in the dressing room, so I start to head there, but my feet get tangled up in the flying lines, which are fishing wire.  Fortunately I extricate my foot after much difficulty (and fear of ruining the line) before Lauren actually had to fly.  I also imagine since she wasn't flying, that's why there were no people around to operate the ropes/fishing line and help me get my foot out.  Lauren says something about not being able to dance.  Fearing my culpability, I scamper off to get into costume.

4th vignette:  I head to what is usually the men's dressing room, a tiny tiny closet leading to an attic.  I think I've dreamt about the cramped closet/attic dressing room before.  This time, there was a flowery sign on the door saying "Piano Player's Dressing Room."   I hear laughter from inside and I peek my head in to see Christine and Rebecca laughing and chatting.  I ask where the men's dressing room is if this is now Christine's room, and they look at each other and laugh: "Someone believed it!" Rebecca then set me straight, telling me that they had just played a joke, that the guys stuff was inside.  There was another door.  Elaborate setup, this.  Dressing room now even smaller.  I have concern that the fake wall they've erected will block the light from the tiny room.  Rebecca points me to another light switch, and behold!  there is light!   When I open the door, I ask, "where are the costumes?" I look again and realize that they're all laid out on shelves, not hung up.  I mutter to the girls, "Kody, that fuckwad!  Why has he laid all of these costumes out like this?  He knows better!"  In the possibility that I have dreamed about the miniscule dressing room before, they had been hung by rails near the ceiling.  Also there don't seem to be labels on any of the costumes, I'm not sure which are mine.  I stop myself, take a deep breath and tell myself that I intend to be calmer.  I'd already ranted once today.  Then I notice a tiny label of masking tape on the hanger with my (or my character's) name on it.  I then apologize to the girls for changing in front of them.

And that's where the dream ends. 

 Click for a touch of analysis.

Memories from the J-pan

I had a chat with a pal this evening.  Called to vent about the less than phenomenal high school production I saw tonight.  Ended up talking about a sick family member.  Her uncle had a stroke, leaving him fully cognizant but with no ability to communicate.  This gave me a flash back to my first days in Japan.  I don't mean to say that living in a foreign country is like being a stroke victim.  But I imagine the frustration is similar.

I remember feeling trapped inside my own head.  I can form most eloquent sentences.  Or near eloquent sentences in English, but I was trying to talk to 12-year-olds, and the only command of their language I had allowed me to string together simple sentences.  At least I could go online and type in a blog or chat with friends, so that's one outlet I had that keeps me feeling pretty peppy about my situation.  But there I was, I can recite Shakespeare for goodness' sake! But in Japan I'd be happy if I could eke out "this is a dog."   Who CARES about the blooming dog, you ask?  No one, but it's a bit of connection at least.  "Kawaii inu da!"  Is what I say when in english, I'd say something like, "I relish this experience to live with you and change my world view based on your way of life."  But since I don't know how to say that, it's "Look!  There's a cute dog!"  People aren't likely to make the connection.  It's hard to bridge "dog" and "point of view." Who can blame them?  Instead they'll look at you kindly, pat you on the head and send you on your way.

And when you live somewhere and expect out and out scorn as the big, dopey american, being patronized doesn't seem too bad an alternative.

In which occupational termination sends Ty on a spiritual head trip.

So, for starters, I've excitingly been let go from my job at Opus Broadcasting.  I made a mistake.  In hindsight, I knew I was making a mistake when I made said mistake.  Still said mistake was so very much on the level that I was released due to "budget cuts."  And when all is said and done, I'm pretty sure I left on good terms with all but 2 people.  2 people who are unable to maintain good terms with anyone.  And are mostly unworthy of good terms with anyone. 

You can understand how that last sentence makes me sound a little less like a loving Christian and more like a bitter headcase.  Also making me a bitter headcase is the fact that I've been obsessing about Bad Terms Bill and Billie since my ouster.  That's clearly not a healthy place to be. 

Also not a healthy place to be?  Opus Broadcasting.  Unfortunately I landed myself in a position doing something fantastic that I loved.  I like writing, but have never been sure of what to write.  I can't even update a freakin' blog in a timely manner.  So getting little bits of writing pushes, the challenges of writing 30 and 60-second scripts has been rewarding.  And now I'm left to figure out what to do with that.  Not sure if trying to find another job in radio is exactly secure.  But that's not what this is supposed to be about.  And that is spiritual discovery.  Item 1:  I had totally been stagnating at Opus.  On one hand, I've discovered that there's a lot that I can do.  I need to be more confident about that.  I also need to find a way to market myself so I can get paid adequately for the work I can do.  I've been freed to discover that.  I should probably stop being so bitter about Bad Terms Bill not summoning the respect to actually give me the termination notice. 

Item 2:  People are awful.  Bad Terms Billie is by far the worst person I've ever met.  I could devote entire chapters to all that makes her utterly reprehensible.  And the worst part is that I feel guilty about hating her so much.  For all of my ability to be judgemental, I don't think I've ever sunk to such depths as  to question a person's salvation. 

Some background:  While making a delivery at Six Flags Over Jesus, Alexandria, I saw a notice that Bad Terms Bill and Billie had joined by baptism.  Well, they plan to join by promise of baptism.  I don't think the actual baptism has happened yet.  So here's the deal.  I can't shake the feeling that the Bills' decision to join SFOJ,A is an insincere, political one.  On the one hand, SFOJ,A has a lot of programs that have every possibility of reaching the Bills, wooing them to Christ, but mostly I see that SFOJ,A has a lot of members and is an opportunity for the Bills to network. 

I KNOW!  Who am I to determine why someone has decided to join a church?  Shouldn't I rejoice that they're seeking?  That they are, whether sincere or not, making one step closer to Christ and Salvation?  But here I am looking at a woman that I have yet to see have a sincerely caring relationship with ANYONE.  For every connection she has, the self serving reason is more than apparent.  Never has she smiled at me that I couldn't see the venom in her eyes.  That could just be me, but I'm pretty sure she's that way with nearly everyone.  I mean, she actually told her coworkers to not be nice to a guy who'd been out sick for nearly a month because "he is evil incarnate" and they can't let him think anyone cares about him.  Take a moment to take in how backwards that is. In an already large nutshell, the woman is duplicitious.  Vile.

She is also a child of God.  And if the aphorism I recently learned is true, she's simply an example of how hurting people hurt others.  And every day I have to give over, not only my hate, but my desire to hate.  The exciting thing is that with each prayer, she's a little less loathesome.  Unfortunately, the loathing is replaced by pity, not exactly another healthy emotion, but it's a step, no?  Besides, it lets me know there's more work to do.