Dream Journal Update — Cues

September 24, 2012
We are running to catch the bus. I will be out of breath and uncentered when it is time for me to go on stage for my small part. But I must be on time. Now I’m trying to outrun the bus as it rushes past me, to get ahead of it so I’ll be waiting at the stop. Where will it stop?  Oh, there.  I see it.

When I get to the theater, the play is in process. I’m backstage, cutting out my lines from a page of newspaper; I need to cut closely so the section with my lines is as small as possible, to fit into my hand to sneak on stage. How far into the play are they, and when do I go on?  I forgot to figure out my cue lines! Here is the book with the whole script, a small blue book. I will figure out what comes before and after my part. I want to take the book and my lines on stage with me. How bad will that be? I know it’s not okay, but can I do it anyway?  I must, because I have not memorized my lines. I am so bad at that. I feel frantic.

I go to the bathroom to concentrate on practicing my lines and putting on my make up, but the girl keeps wanting to talk to me – even though I ask her to go away. She has bad cramps; I tell her about Advil. “Where do I find this Advil?” I have a couple of pills in my purse and give one to her, not two because she is young. In fact, she should be getting an okay first from her mother. But the Advil will help her a lot. She keeps wanting to talk to me and she knocks on the bathroom door. She is talking to me through the door. So distracting. The Advil was a big help. How do I get to practice my lines? Finally, I must be firm with her and I tell her I need alone time.

I go back to my desk and see another note from the man who keeps after me. The note starts off sweet, asking to see the beautiful and lovely woman who I am, requesting my presence at the movies after the show. But then it devolves into some madness about his love of psychedelic drugs.  This is how I get into trouble. I am friendly at first, but then they don’t allow me some time off, and I grow cold to them and they hate me. But even so, it’s time for some time alone now.

 

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About B. E. Berger

Making life better by sharing stories and pictures.
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