The play is fast approaching. At this point, most sane people would be having dreams of walking out on stage naked, forgetting their lines, or forgetting which play they’re in. I got those dreams over with a month ago. (After we first choreographed the Matchmaker song, I had a dream that we decided to go ahead and perform the show the next day, and I was nervous that we’d only rehearsed it once. I thought I would be okay, until I realized that I was wearing a costume from the wrong show and I didn’t even know when to enter for the scene.)
Instead of dreaming normal dreams of theater doom, I’m dreaming of total doom. Here’s how it goes:
Some coworkers and I went shopping at Pier 39 in San Fransisco. We were in a giant Ikea which was selling pets and boots and things that I thought I already owned. I decided to buy a pair of boots because I realized the ones I was wearing in the play had zippers on them, and that was not very appropriate to the period. (Of course, the boots I bought were purple, but this didn’t trouble me very much.)
We came out of the store and went back to the car, which was being chauffeured by my coworker’s husband. She had to go back into the store to find her daughter, who had been practicing her lines with one of the cashiers (who also happened to be my brother). I stared out the car window as I waited for them to come back, and realized there was something horribly wrong with the sky. It was a bit foggy, so I couldn’t tell immediately what it was, but soon I managed to figure out that what I was seeing was two jet-trails that were perfectly perpendicular against the horizon and went up so far I couldn’t tell where they ended.
I was just starting to think it was strange that they weren’t fading away when three new jets burst out from behind the horizon. I realized Ellsworth Air Force Base must be back there, because the jet in the center – a very oddly-shaped blue affair covered with decals and bumper stickers like a race car might be – was actually a B-1 Bomber. As I watched, all three planes did a loop which carried them far too close to the Pier. I knew they were going to crash.
The B-1 slammed upside-down into one of the buildings several blocks down from where we were. The other two planes just barely missed and flew off. Debris from the crash pelted the car, but we were too far away to suffer any serious damage from the initial explosion.
But I knew that wasn’t the worst of it. “Get down!” I shouted to everyone in the car. I knew there were nuclear bombs on the B-1, and I knew they were going to explode. Duck and cover, that’s what you were supposed to do, right? The mushroom cloud was just starting to bloom. I grabbed a knitted shawl and pulled it over my head, trying to hunker down in the footwell. I was sad because I knew we were all probably going to die. The car was shaking and rocking and continued to be pelted with debris. I wondered if we should get up and try to make a run for it, or if the car would protect us.
I peeked my head up and realized that we were speeding down a crowded interstate at near-death speeds, and I couldn’t help wonder if that was any safer than just staying where we were. I was sad because my coworker, her daughter, and my brother had not made it back to the car.
The end. I woke up. Believe it or not, this dream was totally about the play. My poor subconscious is so pessimistic. I’m not nearly that pessimistic while I’m awake! At this point, I think the very worst that could happen is we could run really overtime (Fiddler on the Roof in a special three-hour presentation!) but other than that, we all know our parts, we all have our costumes, we’re all doing a great job.
So… the summary of this post is, come see my play!