Sweet dreams are made of these...

So I will just continue this new trend of mine wherein I have bizarre dreams and then blog about them because I am bored and chained to a desk and can't do anything better with my time.

Anyway, this dream involved the theatre. I found myself simultaneously involved in productions of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? and Waiting for Godot, for some reason. The first play was a success. I was Martha, and I was simply delightful in my portrayal. The director had apparently taken some liberties with the script, as the play itself more closely followed the plot of Harrison Bergeron for some bizarre reason, but I cling steadfastly to the knowledge that it was WAoVW. At intermission, I had to rush to Godot, where I was playing Pozzo, and I found that I had missed my cue by ten minutes and Vladimir and Estragon were just sitting there adlibbing. I also didn't know my lines, as I was a last minute fill-in, engaged the day before (lovely how my dreams go into back stories!) so I grabbed a copy of the script, thinking that I could read and interpret. Alas... I hadn't realised the play was in Russian. the words were garbled and stuttered and the audience gazed at me as though they were about to kill me. I ran out of the theatre after I exited the stage, and found Calum, who was hanging out with Dan, his old roommate. I was mad at them because they were somehow responsible for my double-booking my performances, and they were ludicrously unsympathetic to my plight. I threw a hissy fit at them, and had just been calmed down into agreeing to go swimming when I woke up.

So that was my dream. Third vaguely unpleasant one in as many days. What's going on???