Strange recurring dream

This is as close to I have gotten to a nightmare recently, and it's mostly a thriller.

I often tell people that I can really only play odd characters and villains on stage, and that other characters, such as a normal person, or even a comic character, are much harder for me to do because I don't have the usual look for either such character.  Apparently, my mind believe me.

I've been dreaming that I have auditioned for another classic play, Goethe's Faust, and of all things, I've been cast as the devil himself, Mephistopheles.  Like I said, my mind believes me and has taken my statements to their logical conclusion.

In the first variant of this dream, I was attending a rehearsal without a script.  However, we were rather far along with the rehearsals, so the other actors were all off-script.  It came time for my first big scene and I got the cue to come on stage, but I didn't know my entrance line, nor any of the rest of the lines.  I began making it up as I went along, stumbling through a terribly improvised scene.  At the end of a torturous two minutes, I found an excuse and left the stage.  I woke up feeling so embarrassed that I could make such an ass of myself as to have not prepared for the show at all.

In second variant of this dream, I've been given a script and a costume and have lost both.  I'm in such a funk over the loss of both of these things that my mind isn't working, and, just as before, I can't remember any lines.

In the third and most recent variant of the dream, I have still lost my costume, although I did manage to find my script -- not that it matters because I wasn't using it!  The play had been converted into a musical and we were now in tech week and had a trial audience.  The cue was given, my entrance was played and I came sauntering on stage, having no idea what to do or to sing.  I might have also been smoking a cigarette for all I know (which is something that I never do).  What I know is that the theater reminded me of a strange mix of the theaters that I have performed in, the audience was packed into it to overflowing (and it was a big theater), and I was on stage wishing that I had never signed up for this.

The fact that it had become a musical and I was on stage either in street clothes or completely naked was about the only thing that tipped me off to the fact that what I was experiencing was a dream.  However, this last time, I woke up so fast from this dream that I leaped out of bed and began looking for the script, determined to learn all of my lines in 24 hours.  A whole minute went by before I realized that I was not in my shabby actor's studio in NYC; I was in my own house.

Ben's wedding

I had been invited to be a groomsman for Ben R's wedding, and it was the day of the wedding preparation.  The guys (some of whom I knew, like Alex S) were all getting ready, and I wasn't even around.  I had overslept and was running really late.  After oversleeping, I had to have breakfast even though I don't eat breakfast most of the time, and so I came cruising up to the mansion where everyone was getting ready.  It was 12:50, and everyone was supposed to be loading up the cars at 13:00.  I thought to myself that I was ready, and saw that all the guys were in their wedding suits, and I was in my regular charcoal suit.  Alex looked at me with a look that said, "You haven't changed at all." I asked where the suits were and they pointed at a room just off the area where they were, so I went inside and there was a room with a closet full of clothes and one more wedding suit.

"Oh, it's charcoal!" I thought to myself, "This will be easy!" So I put on the things that were other than what I had on, and just when I thought I was ready, I noticed that this was more of a light gray than a charcoal, so I had to change.  I unloaded the hanger and noticed that there were also undergarments as well.  I then also noticed that there was a notification that whoever was going to wear these suits had to shower and shave before putting them on.

Right! So I went dashing down the long hall in only my underwear, finding that every individual shower was being used.  There were locker room equivalents, all of which had other people in them, but they were my only options.  I went into one, but before I got all the way in, I heard ladies voices and backed out quickly.  I went into another and heard children's voices; again, I left quickly because that wasn't an option either.  I went back up and down the halls, but all of the other showers were in use.  I found a third locker room, and it was empty!  Huzzah!  I began showering and heard kids voices.  I assumed they were going past when they entered the locker room.  They didn't care -- they were kids!  But this was not a place that I could be, so I wrapped up in a towel and left.  Fortunately, I was clean enough, so I just had to get back to the room with the suits.

When I returned, I found that this room had the air turned on, and the vertical slats for blinds were being taken for a ride by the air conditioning.  If there weren't so many people on the outside of those windows, this wouldn't have been a problem.  So I had to hunt again for another room.  Up and down the hall I went, and finally found an unoccupied room, but whose previous occupant had only been gone for a couple of minutes.  There was no telling when he or she would return.  I went in, closed and locked the door, put on the undergarments, and left the room exactly as I found it.

Going back to the room with the suits, I found that everyone who had been outside were all gone.  It looks like everyone had gone off to the wedding.  I knew I had only a couple of minutes, so I threw on the essentials and packed the accoutrements in my jacket pockets.  I went outside, found a set of directions to the church, and hopped in my car.  I began driving away and noticed that the directions were telling me to get on a couple of few different roads for 50 miles, 180 miles, 100 miles, 75 miles -- no small distance!  Apparently, this was not a local wedding; I was driving from here (somewhere in the DC metro) to upstate NY.  Yet somehow, the wedding was supposed to start soon and everyone, including the groom, was just here!

I checked my car's clock: it read 13:50. I had been inside the house getting ready for an hour.  I was late to the wedding! I would be an embarassment to Ben, Alex, my family who was there (not sure who that would be), and they would write me off as a friend; I was unreliable, and I had taken my own interpretation of fashionably late to a whole new meaning.

Strange violence

Last night, I dreamed of a traffic jam.  The traffic jam was near some open sports fields; there were separate fields for football, soccer, and baseball, and in the middle of all of the specific sports fields was a large field that was a wide open space set up like a park (trees, paths, benches, nice scenery -- you get the idea).  Traffic was crawling, and tempers were getting heated, because in the traffic were guys who were supposed to be on those fields because they needed to be practicing with their respective teams.  One of the guys was a big burly guy who had his football gear on and he was really getting impatient.  He was laying on his horn and flashing his lights, which wasn't doing anything except upsetting the guy in front of him, who was a soccer player.  The football player attempted to pass the soccer player, but he was met with oncoming traffic and couldn't do so.  The soccer player rolled down his window and began shouting at the football player, shaking his fist and insulting him.  Tempers kept rising until both men were out of their vehicles, screaming at each other in the middle of the street.  One made the first move and a fight ensued.  This carried on across the lanes of traffic until they were fighting in the open field.

A bystander rushed out to try to separate the two of them, pleading with the two of them to stop fighting, make peace and get back in their cars.  The two men grabbed him and beat him until he was unconscious, and then kicked him while he was defenseless on the ground. While they were doing so, their religious affiliation became apparent, as they were calling on Allah for strength in their anger. Their tempers satiated, they both got back into their cars and drove off; the traffic has lightened up a little so that they could park their cars in the parking lot for the fields and they went to their respective practice fields.

A little while later, the man who had suffered the violence came to.  He was wobbly and barely able to sit up.  He tried a couple of times, but had been so violently assaulted that he either couldn't control his body due to the pain, possibly due to a concussion.  As he lay on the ground, trying to slowly put himself to rights, the soccer player happened to look over.  A cold look of malice ran over the soccer player's face, and he ran over to the hapless man and began bashing him on the head.  After about ten crashing blows, the soccer player ran back to his field; again, the poor man lay unconscious and what now appeared to be close to dead.

Newspapers flashed across my vision.  The innocent victim was a miracle survivor, but only just barely.  He had suffered concussions and broken bones, even a broken neck.  He was paralyzed from the neck down, and couldn't remember most of his life.  However, he remembered his name and things from his childhood.  He had been a faithful Muslim in his youth and had memorized the Qur'an.  The only thing he could do now was smile innocently as he had when he was a child and recite passages.

+ + +

It should be noted by anyone who does not know me that I am a Catholic, not a Muslim, and that this was just a dream, not a commentary on Islam.

Play whom?

Last night, I dreamed that I was performing in A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens.  I was performing in a theater that I had been in another dream.  I had been cast as Bob Cratchit and was waiting on rehearsals and the script.

I don't recall the details of my previous dream in this theater, except that it was a Broadway show that I had never heard of, but I had a very minor role.  As such, I wasn't given a script or time to rehearse.  I was supposed to simply appear at the performances, ready to go.  If you're confused by how I could be ready without a script, join the club.

History tends to repeat itself.  Again, I hadn't been given a script or a rehearsal schedule.  I was called on the first day of the performance, asking where I was.  I came directly over to the theater and got into my costume.  Before my first scene, I attempted to find a copy of the script so that I could get an idea about what I needed to do, who the other characters were -- anything.  However, there were no scripts to be had.  The other actors were either guarding theirs or there really were no scripts for anyone.

I had maybe 10 minutes during which time I looked through the men's dressing room, spoke to a couple technical hands, and found one of the directors, and none of them seemed remotely concerned with the fact that I had never gotten anything I needed to perform.  They were only concerned with the fact that I was going to be late to the stage if I focused too much on trying to find a script.  I kept looking for as long as I could, and I was finally grabbed by one of the backstage hands, taken to stage right and told that I was on in 3-2-1, and shoved out onto the stage.

I fumbled around for a few seconds.  It was the scene at Old Fezziwig's house, when Scrooge was a young man.  (Avid Dickens fans will note that Bob Cratchit is not in that scene and that I would have missed a few significant scenes that Bob Cratchit is in.)  I joined a few other people at a table, and the focus of the stage became our table, as the other actors on it became noticeably louder and carried on a conversation.  I fumbled around with Dickens-style sentences and then made a comment about how I had had too much to drink and needed to go home to sleep it off, but that I wished them a very merry Christmas, full of joy!  I stumbled off stage and resumed my hunt for a script.

I woke up very shortly thereafter in a cold sweat.

Mouse dream

I forget the context of this dream, but here's the part that I remember from last night. I was in a room with furniture in it, and I was standing next to a center island or a large box or some sort of console when I saw this dark thing in my peripheral vision. When I turned and looked, it was gone. I focused again on the big boxy thing and in a couple of minutes, that same black little spot appeared. I turned my head slowly to take a look at it and it was a little mouse. It saw that I was looking at it, and stopped sniffing around. I turned to face it; it turned to face me. I took a step toward it and it didn't move. I continued advancing towards it, and it stood up on its hind legs. I slowly extended my hand down to it, palm up, and it did not run. Instead, it grabbed my fingers with its tiny forepaws and began sniffing around.

The dream gets a little fuzzy around here (no pun intended), but I seem to remember the mouse hopping up into my hand and either speaking to me there, or scurrying up my arm to my shoulder and talking there. I don't remember what was said.

Technology

I've been having a lot of dreams about technology recently, but none have really stuck in my mind. I just think it's notable that I've been dealing with tech problems in the past couple of weeks in all of my dreams. A few nights ago, I dreamed that I was working on a computer, and earlier in the day I had been. A couple nights before that, I dream that I had dropped my iPhone 6s, and in spite of the case and the screen protection, the screen that still cracked. In another dream, I was using my tablet for some troubleshooting. Instill another, every wireless signal that I had set up was wide open and users were getting plagued by viruses. Considering my line of work, none of these are pleasant dreams. In none of them did I resolve any problems; I simply came across a series of difficult problems and was unable to resolve them before I woke up.

Vanity of the hair

I don't remember a whole lot about this dream, but I was in a place with lots of mirrors. I was there with somebody else but I forget who it was. We were talking about nothing terribly important, because I was glancing around at all the mirrors: there were small ones, ornate ones, tall floor ones, and even a couple of the ceiling. (Whoever owned this place seemed to be quite vain.)

As I was glancing around, I happened to catch my reflection in one mirror which picked up another mirror behind me. There, on the crown of my head, was a massively large bald spot, the size of the palm of my hand. I looked at it, thinking to myself, "Christine would not let me get around looking that badly," and so figured that I had simply lost a significant clump of hair. This must've happened fairly recently, because I don't remember it looking like this in the past. I started looking around the room get a discrete sort of manner, not really expecting to find anything, but simultaneously hoping I would. As I scanned the room, my eyes caught another mirror and this one was passing along the reflection from one of the mirrors on the ceiling. I had another patch of baldness the same size sitting just off-center of the middle of my head. I decided that night I was going to cut my hair.

When I woke up this morning, the dream had felt so real that I had to check my head.

Eaten by sharks

I have this strange recurring dream where I am eaten by sharks.  It used to be the case that I was swimming in murky waters and I would encounter a shark around the size of a tiger shark.  I would defeat it with my Bowie Knife, and it swam away, leaving a trail of blood.  As it swam away, the water would clear, and 25 feet away, looking right at me was a Mako shark that would make Jaws look like a porpoise.  It would swim fairly leisurely up to me, open its mouth and down I would go.  I wouldn't wake up quickly either, so my soul would leave my body, and I would be able to watch the shark finish eating me, and there would not be any pieces of me left in the water, but there would be some blood.

This was mostly inspired by a fear of sharks put there by Jaws and Deep Blue Sea, I'm sure.  If this wasn't the sole source, it was at least a contributor.

Now, more often than not, I am fed to a pair of large sharks, usually Makos or Great Whites, but there have been Hammerheads and Bulls as well.  In tonight's version of the dream, it was Great Whites.  I was thrown into the water (I have no idea from where or by whom, therefore it is just as likely that I fell in accidentally from an unknown place) and set upon in short order by one of them.  I fought with my first assailant with my fists, knowing that I was only prolonging the inevitable, when I was grabbed by the other one.  With that part of my body immobilized, the other one clamped onto the opposite limb.  Short work was made; first I was crippled and, very soon after, torn apart.

The funny thing is, my adrenaline gets going, but I am not afraid when faced with this inevitable.  The sharks are going to win, but I never let them take me down without a fight.  My normal mind panics at the sight of real blood, and I will get light-headed; from there, the room may spin and I will often need to sit down.  In these recent dreams, the ocean gets filled with blood and parts of me are strewn about in the best YouTube-quality shark-feeding-frenzy way.  However, when I wake up, I am not light-headed or terrified, just charged with self-defense adrenaline.

Dreams are funny, but not always laughable...

Domingo in concert

I was going with my Dad to an outdoor concert hall to see Placido Domingo in concert. We stopped in a small town for a quick bite to eat at a small sandwich shop; just to describe how small it was, the sandwich shop's outdoor seating area was directly next to the parking lot, and there were no railings to divide the people from the cars. When we parked, the nose of his truck blocked a middle-aged couple from getting out of their bench seat on our side. The other side was right up against the wall. They had to crawl over the seats to get out. No one was upset, though; this was normal.

We got a sandwich, found some seating and talked about what we hoped to hear at the concert. Dad wanted a lot of opera, and I wanted a mix of things, particularly his Mariachi music.

We left the sandwich shop, and continued on our way to the concert. At the auditorium, I ran into a few people I knew, including Michael C, but having to go through the line to get the tickets, I was unable to say anything to any of them at first. Strangely enough, in the ticket line itself, there was another deli. (No, it's not Lent.)

After hearing the tickets, I found that Dad and I were sitting completely different sections of the auditorium. This was kind of sad, but it was what it was. We agreed to meet after the concert, and, after pointing out to each other where we were sitting, we parted ways.

Concert already started: Placido Domingo was singing a pop song while Santana wailed on his guitar. I liked it, but entire section of the audience left after that song was over. Santana then left the stage, and another pop singer came on the stage, although I don't recall who it was.

At this point, Michael C walked up to me and asked if I was enjoying the concert. I told him yes, but that I was hoping it would get better. He didn't have high hopes for this, but he agreed that he hoped it would get better.

Shortly after this, Domingo began an opera set, but they were poorly chosen selections. There were no crowdpleasers, only arias from little known operas, and it was all some of the most atonal music I have ever heard.

I looked around for Dad, to see if he was enjoying himself or not, and I couldn't find him. I looked around for my friends to see if any of them were still around, and I only saw the back of Michael C's head as he was leaving. Looking around at the auditorium, I saw that fully half of the seats were empty now.

Even though I wasn't enjoying what I was hearing, I could not bring myself to leave. After all, Domingo is easily one of my favorite singers. He has so much good repertoire that I was still hoping that what I was hearing would end. Within a few minutes, I was one of the few people left in the auditorium. I woke up before I found out if I was going to be the last one.

Weddings and such

 I was driving along the Prince William Parkway to get to church to go to Mass. Along the way, I passed two police officers commuting to work in a Honda a Accord.  They looked like political caricatures; their only movements were the drivers hands in the wheel and the passengers hands on his smartphone.

When I arrived at Mass, Paul E, Sylvia S, and I went to Mass at a nice looking church; it was a church I'd never seen before, although it had a few elements of some of my favorite churches, as well as my childhood parish, St. Philip the Apostle in Dallas, TX.  Walking in, I didn't realize that it was the feast of the Annunciation, but Sylvia pointed that out to me.

The deacon read the readings in Latin, and the Gospel was in English.  The Gospel began with, "At that time, Jesus said to His disciples," and we all knew it was the wrong Gospel.  So did the priest, fortunately; either that, or he was aided by the fact that half of the congregation did not stand, while the other half that was standing had their eyebrows raised high.  (It was at this point that I noticed Mike and Carissa E, and Alex and Ashley S in attendance as well.  They were seated.  I was standing with Sylvia and Paul.)  The priest reread the correct readings, and when he announced the Gospel, everyone stood, because it was the right one.

The rest of Mass continued as normal, and sometime between the Agnus Dei and Communion, Sylvia had left the pew and had put on a wedding dress, as had Ashley S.  The suit that Alex was wearing turned out to be his morning dress.  Sylvia was getting married and Alex and Ashley were renewing their vows.  When the girls saw each other in their wedding dresses, high fives went around, and they came back from Communion to their pews positively giddy.  I think I might have even seen them hop down the aisle.

So, after Mass, Sylvia told me that even though her rehearsal was that day, the guy she was marrying was from Sweden, and she wouldn't be getting married in the States.  However, she wanted Christine and me to be there.  I gave the best promise I could, which felt like a weak promise, but I didn't know when the wedding was.  Nor did I ever find out; I woke up very soon after this point, as Sylvia was asking Ashley to be her fill-in matron-of-honor and Paul to be the fill-in groom for the rehearsal.  It was when the priest came out of the sacristy and asked if she was ready for the rehearsal that I popped awake.

Choir rehearsal

Joe M and Paul E were staying at the same bachelor house, to which I went for rehearsal for something.  Upon arriving there, I parked in front of a median with a large tree that had been chopped down and was piled there.  It was pouring buckets, so I stuck around until nearly midnight when the rain slackened.  I ran outside to my car to find that it wasn't there.  I walked up and down the street , wondering if it had been towed or stolen only to find that I couldn't find it...

...ready for this?...

I couldn't find it because I was driving it.

I woke up, and resisted the urge to go check on my car.

Slapfish - bathroom break!!!

I don't know how this started, but I was working for a grocery store, and another clerk and I were having a contest in bagging customers' items. We had both been doing as much fancy bagging as we could, when all of a sudden, he pulled out a paper bag, grabbed a large fish and threw it in. With a massive splash, water came gushing out of this paper bag... ...and I woke up, really needing a bathroom break.

Work

I had a very strange yet realistic dream about work last night. I was doing my typical computer support, except that we had a new support system in place.

Of course, now that I'm sitting down to type it up, I can't remember what it was. I only remember being really impressed by it.

Touring in Poland

America was at war.  The troops were deployed, and patriotism ran true in every American's blood.  The SCL received a call to sing a concert in Poland for the troops.  It wasn't a very busy spot, but it was a deployment central.  We were working on a program, when something came up with my work schedule and I couldn't attend.  I was so disappointed that I woke up.

Singing in the Colosseum

I was singing with the Palestrina Choir from Christendom under the direction of Dr. P, and it consisted of everyone who had ever sung with that choir (so it was bigger than it ever was in real life). We received an invitation to sing at the Roman Colosseum with another choir, I think the Vatican Choir. Anyway, so for some reason, when we arrived at Rome, the director of the Vatican choir took one look at me and said, "I didn't want EVERYone."

On a side note, having never been to the real Colosseum, my mind associated the exterior with the stage. Each person had their own individual window, and they were all stacked on top of each other, so there were no rows of people standing behind each other.

Anyway, everyone else took their places in the Colosseum-windows including Dr. P, who sang in my place when he wasn't directing. Out of a massive choir, I could easily see Brittany and Beth, as they had ground and second row positions, and when I looked around, everyone else had blended into the structure well. When they began singing, the sound was an absolutely glorious one, but one dominated by the Palestrina Chorale. While the director was busy patting himself on the back for such a fantastic idea of blending his choir with Dr. Poterack's, all the while suggesting to his own choir that they paled in comparison to Christendom's.

So, after listening to the whole practice, I had to evacuate, because it was a sold-out house, to standing-room only, and even that was filled to overflowing. The choir was supposed to wait in their positions for the audience to come in (which they did in droves).

Since there was nothing for me to do except either listen to the concert from outside or go exploring, I did the latter, since I had heard the practice. Unfortunately for both of us, I don't remember this part of the dream.