Some theatre each day keeps the doctor away…


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I had a nightmare this morning.  Well, not a nightmare – I don’t think I’ve had a nightmare in quite some time – but it wasn’t exactly happy-happy-joy-joy either.  I was in the Concert Hall of the Sydney Opera House, in the audience.  I was there to see some sort of magician show, I think.  I was there with some of my friends, in one of the rows quite close to the stage.  Many things happened during the show, which was both bizarre and enjoyable.  One of the acts, for instance, was to get two volunteers to come up on the stage, and to turn this very large cylindrical tank that had been brought onto the platform; they had to stretch up almost as far as they could and grab one of the many handholds/little-poles-sticking-out-from-the-top and push/pull it along.  The reason they had to turn the tank, you see, was so they could spray water onto the volleyball player who was throwing and kicking two volleyballs high up into the air.  When they started turning it, water began spraying out and wetting them – because they weren’t turning it fast – but when they got a bit of speed up it started to soak the whole stage.  Then all the water rushed out of the tank for some reason and a floodwave came towards the audience, but was drained away.

Another woman was invited on stage, wearing a backpack on her front, and was asked to sit on a tower of an icecream cone, a can of baked beans, and a can of something else.  (The icecream cone, like a circular pyramid, was on the bottom.)  As she sat on them they crumbled in succession.  “Why are you so heavy?” the emcee inquired.  “Why, it’s because we’ve put prizes in your backpack!”  And, pulling her backpack open, he showed the audience the prizes that were contained in it, though they only one I remember was a hard-plastic wrapped radio – a small square thing with the speaker-grill, and four buttons numbered 1 to 4 – no dials or anything.  The emcee was on the verge of informing the audience that everyone was getting one of these, then I had one too (because dreams are extremely efficient with narrative flow, and only a hint of where things might be going is enough to forward the story along).  People started to press the buttons on the radio to try and contact the representative who would give them the prizes (it was a two-way radio), and so I pressed the button marked 1.  Music started to play, and I waited patiently for the music to stop and someone to start talking, but it didn’t happen.  All this time, the emcee on stage was at the front, just standing there, saying nothing also.  Eventually I gave up and turned the music off.

Suddenly I was being accused of disrupting the show – I’d been sitting in my seat for five minutes playing music that the rest of the audience could hear, and was waiting for me to turn off.  But other people were doing it too, or so I thought at the time, but now it seemed like I was the only one.  But the emcee had told the audience to start radio-ing for their prizes, but he was saying nothing now, and the ushers were closing in.  I turned around and faced the entire audience and put my case to them resignedly – I apologised for disrupting the show, but maintained my innocence, stating the perfectly logical reasons for why I was playing the music (everyone else was doing it, the emcee had told us to), but none of it made any difference, and so I left with the ushers.  The injustice of it all, the injustice!

Weaving through the crowd in the packed foyer (I don’t know why there was a crowd there, if they were all still inside the Concert Hall, but there was a crowd nonetheless), I saw my uncle – he’d just been in another theatre at the Opera House, listening to some talk that was being given.  And then I woke up.  And was furious – bloody hypocrite of an emcee.  I got out of bed, walked to the kitchen, and promptly began proclaiming the moral highground to my parents, telling them what I had dreamed.

So I’m seeing my uncle tomorrow (family get together for the rugby league final at his place), my friend was locked out of the first act of the opera last night, I have an obsessive compulsion regarding keeping my phone permanently on silent so if I do forget to turn it off before a concert/show it won’t make any noise, it was raining last night…  That explains the subconscious origins for some of the dream – as for the magic tricks (which, as it turned out, I don’t remember seeing any magic tricks in the dream), or the radio, or the prizes – I’ve no idea where all that came from.


Written by epistemysics

September 29, 2012 at 2:49 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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