January 28, 2013

Discouraging dreams. One was of exerting myself for a friend (it was Tommy the musician, oddly enough) over a long period of time, and then, when things weren’t going fast enough for him, having him enumerate the ways in which I was a bad friend. Both of us were in an acting class, and we went, after the argument, to our acting finals. The performances were in a forest over steeply rolling hills, and on the crest of each hill was an open space for performance, sylvan versions of the Medieval play carts. The actors were strewn down the hills waiting for their parts to begin, and I realized I had not been cast in any of them. The teacher mumbled something about waiting to see who didn’t show up, but I was crushed. I suspected Tommy of sabotaging me, or even worse, didn’t suspect him at all, but rather a more general antipathy. The forest was very beautiful. In the dream I didn’t worry about how anyone could be heard or seen.

The people at All Souls gave me a “God’s Helping Hands Service Recognition Award” during the Annual Meeting. Physically, it’s a rock-green tile with an image of the tower cross on it. It made me glad, over a ground bass of confusion. I was satisfied I was completely invisible there. The achievements cited were, mostly, two decades old, but in any case the level of my surprise would no doubt gratify the givers. DJ got one, and Amy, and Janis, et al.

Paul asks me if I want to be in The Mikado. The immediate answer is “no,” but I want to be doing something.