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Jeremy's Ramblings, Babblings, and Other Pretentious Bullshit.
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
 
Last night, coming out of a rehearsal of "Marat/Sade" (with a new adaptation, premiering at the Hunger Artists Theatre in Fullerton, CA on May 6th...shameless plug), I was drained. The character that I play has an obsessive-compulsive disorder, and as such spends the entire show making sure everything is in order. And since we have still have three weeks until the show opens to refine and focus all of its many moments (and the director has been giving the actors a great deal of freedom to explore their characters), it is at the moment a chaotic mess.

This causes a problem on two levels for me, as both my OCD-suffering character and the real life me who provided the adaptation of the piece (did I forget to mention that earlier? Yeah, I wrote it) are freaking out. I have no doubt that the director (who I know to be quite understanding of both the piece at hand and the rules of theatre in general) will be able to tone down the more distracting elements of the play. But at the moment, there is a severe lack of focus going on.

So anyway, the point is, I was physically and emotionally exhausted coming off of rehearsal (not in a bad way, just in a factual way). And I decided to, for once, actually get to bed early. As I went to bed, the numbers "9:32" were staring at me in red LCD display (which was freaky. I haven't seen anything close to that time when going to bed for many a month). I went to sleep and proceeded to have a dream that I actually remembered (dreams worth remembering do not often happen to me, and when they do, I still forget them).

In the dream, I was in a one-man show (I have developed an unhealthy obsession with one-man shows since doing "The Gog/Magog Project" last fall. Now I constantly immerse myself in the world of Spalding Gray, Eric Bogosian and Will Eno) that was being directed by my friend Darcy (whose play "The Land Southward" is currently having its world premiere at Hunger Artists Theatre...second shameless plug).

However, it wasn't really a show. It was taking place out in the woods, the only people present were myself, Darcy, Brey, and Darcy's fiancee Jason, and it was more of an endurance test that had me completing various physical and spiritual challenges.

I don't remember most of them (see, even the really interesting dreams I have trouble remembering), but the two that I do remember are "Take a long, slow walk" (which I had decided to save for last) and the most difficult of all of the challenges.

It involved me standing in the middle of a humongous abandoned shed, and my challenge was to not only have "an eternal death of the soul" (whatever that means. Maybe that's what happens when you watch too much Fox News), but to somehow get my soul back (which defeats the purpose of an "eternal death", but never mind).

Now again, I'm fuzzy on the details, but I remember my having to battle a kind of spirit that was not entirely good, but definitely not evil. I lost my soul and gained it back, and the experience was both physically and emotionally grueling (uh-oh! Similarities abounding!). The spirit left, the wind stopped blowing, the ground stopped rumbling and I found myself standing in the middle of the shed exhausted and naked (apparently in our society, losing your clothes goes hand-in-hand with losing your soul. Sounds about right).

So I step out of the shed, and I just start walking. I plod past Darcy who says to me, "You're taking The Walk?" And I reply, as if it were the last line of the greatest cinematic epic ever filmed, "I'm taking The Walk." And I begin to slowly drift toward the horizon.

And........SCENE! I wake up. I asked Darcy about it, and she said, "I guess there must be some big changes in store for you."

I always hate when I get a dream that "means" something. I prefer not to know the future. I just like to let the future happen, and that my reaction to it be spontaneous and unplanned. So when I get a dream that could potentially be telling me the future, I get worried. I start overanalyzing everything in my life that could possibly be an explanation for my premonition. Am I going to lose my job? Am I going to finally gain success in the entertainment industry? Is that Ben Affleck film going to suck (actually, that one's a given)?

So to get my mind on other matters, I'm distracting myself. I'm writing a new play (and I might actually finish this one), I'm reading Neil Gaiman's "Neverwhere" (I can only imagine the dreams that he has...but then again, he can only imagine them, too), and I'm listening to The Arcade Fire's album "Funeral" (which balances its musical complexity and edginess with a beauty that calms me without being sleep-inducing or intelligence-draining).

Perhaps these will help me in the battle for my soul. I'll keep you updated on how that goes.

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