Recurring dream.

1.03.2011
A recurring dream of mine.

I'm backstage of a large theater that resembles the Tomball High School auditorium.  My friends are in costume and makeup, calm and ready to begin the play.  But I have no idea what play we're supposed to be performing.  Places, they tell me.  Go to your places for the top of the show.  But I can't move -- I'm frozen with fear.  I hear hundreds of tiny voices murmuring in the audience as the curtain rises and the lights go up.  A painful silence fills the air, and I have a terrible feeling that I'm supposed to be onstage.  Everyone's waiting for me, I realize, as the worse kind of panic quickly makes its way to the depths of my soul.  I'm not wearing a costume -- only my everyday jeans, sweater, and converse -- and no memorized words or phrases come to mind.  I feel sweaty and out of breath.  My friends are all looking at me like I'm insane, urging me with their eyes to get out there.  Focus, Emily, focus.  What play have you been preparing for?  It's no use, I just can't remember.  But before I decide between faking illness or running away, I see someone familiar approach me from the corner of my eye.  It's Mr. Cottom, my director, and there's no mistaking the fury on his face.  I've ruined his show and let everyone down, I think to myself, tears brimming beneath my eyelids.  In this dream, all I can do is bear the harsh words and disappointed looks until I wake up.

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