Dream reminder of high school reunion

Today is an anniversary reunion of my class at Stuyvesant High School. I have never been much of one for reunions before, especially when they are at posh clubs and cost over $100. But this time I was reading all the posts on the Facebook group, and actually getting a little interested. Unfortunately, by income level right now is too prohibitively low to buy a ticket, but a fellow alum offered to pick up a couple of tickets for those of us in my condition

Since accepting the offer, however, Life has gotten in the way of my remembering. I shot a documentary at the Pennsic War, got a new job, performed in the Faux-Real Theater's Oedipus Rex, and have been dealing with trying to get the money owed me by my last job. Earlier this week, however, a Facebook post reminded me.

But what with all the excitement around the NY Comic Con and reprising my role from last year in today's encore performance of "Oedipus Rex" on Roosevelt Island, it slipped my mind again. Then this morning my alarm clock went off (way too early), so I re-set it for two hours later and went back to bed.

This time I found myself in a classroom-type situation, filling out a form as a couple of women sat at the front of the room behind a table. They were advisers of some sort, and we were going over what we did in high school. Then I would go to the end of the table and take a photo of an arrangement. The arrangement included a book with a picture and short piece of text highlighting the alumna's high school career, a book mark with a picture and another bit of text, and some object that fit in somehow (memory getting hazy). There were only about 3 or four alums in the room, including me.

While I was taking the picture for myself, another female adviser, one who was sitting at a desk beyond the opposite end of the table, said to one of the alums, a fellow I knew from my homeroom back at Stuyvesant, "It says here you were present at two homicides in high school and didn't report wither one of them."

"I thought that was taken care of," he replied, in the kind of voice one would expect from someone who got caught in a bad situation that wasn't really his fault, he had to pay a high price for, and now had thought he had finally put behind him.

I said "Come on, that was 25 years ago. Give the guy a break!" As the adviser and the alum argued, I looked down at the book and saw that his page talked about how his life had gone bad. It included a quote form him?:" Yes, I had some chances, but IO blew it." I decided not to include this in the picture.

The bookmark was much more positive, highlighting his good points and not mentioning the homicides.

Then I woke up and remebered that tonight was the night of my high school graduating class reunion.

My dream this morning: Going up on a line in a movie shoot

So it seems that I was given a small but important part in a movie, and I was doing pretty good at memorizing my lines. We were shooting a scene in an empty lot next to a tall, blank, brick wall. I was supposed to wait a couple of beats, then say a line, then cross to another person in the scene while the main character said her line. We shot this a few times, but on the 4th or 5th take, I said some lines later in the scene to the person I had crossed to. But on that take, I did not get my first line right. When I tried to remember it, I couldn’t. My only explanation was that I had done the line so many times that I just went up on it. So I asked if anyone had a script handy, and no one did.

I went back into the room, which was adjacent to the lot (a somewhat good-sized room with a very high ceiling that was empty of furniture save for one corner where a whole office set-up, including desk, filing cabinets, bookshelves, printer, etc were located), where all my papers were on the floor. I had used to live in that room, but had recently moved out of it because it was being turned into an office. I gathered all my papers into a pile, but could not find my script in the pile. At the same time, the guy sitting at the desk (who happened to be the son of Tom Dolan, an English and acting teacher at Stuyvesant High School who directed the first two musicals I was in there) was trying to figure out how to run the printer (which was printing pages that looked like ditto machine prints) so that in would print a negative image. I didn’t have time to help him because I needed to find the script. I went back out into the lot, and right about then I realized this was all a dream. This was pretty surprising because I thought I could remember the weeks of rehearsals on this project.

I think part of this dream may have been inspired by the fact that I need to memorize a lot of lines for the Faux Real Theater Co's "Oedipus Rex" that I have just been cast in.