the dream is shattered by so much input from fussy pets on wakking up, but I try to put it back together.

I somehow got involved in theatre in some generic urban environment. I sort of happened upon the production and got involved, even though I had no prior experience to recommend me. I don't remember what I was doing but I do know I had a bicycle as my transport to and from there. the director was a dictator.

it was the afternoon before dress rehearsl, and we were working on a scene in which everyone was lines up chorus-line like and various breakouts where to take place. people didn't really get it was a rehearsal and the director meant it when he said "don't move unless I tell you." every time someone moed he wrote down their name, and he had a cardboard box full of onions. I think the people whose names were written down were going to be forced to eat an onion, like it was an apple, later.

normally I like this stage in putting toegther a production, it's the last rehearsal before people are in costume and uptight and in front of an audience. it's the last time in a while you see things performed with confidence. in this, however that was missing.

I dreamt that I was running late, and was getting ready to leave from my mom's house. I was in my mom's room with the overhead light on, laptop on the bed as I got my shit together. the bed was my parents' old kingsize with that cheap blanket on it they used to have with the funky square weave.

my friend in warcraft whose name I don't know, started talking to me in YIM. the name she was using was "angela swarthie", apparently a reference to british literature that I did not know. we talked for a long time, probably half an hour, before I actually noticed that we were talking outside the warcraft game framework. then, I was surprised, pleased, and embarassed all at the same time. the conversation was intense, and in YIM, not proteus which is what I usually use on the laptop. I promised to make sure I was accessible during the day.