The Four Act Dream - November 28th, 2016

[FOREWORD - This is probably the longest dream I've ever had and it was insanely difficult to write down: it took me over an hour to write it up. It's aptly called 'The Four Act Dream' because, as the title suggests, it was a dream split into four sections]. 

ACT 1

I was standing in the middle of my high school field, surrounded by at least 100 other people. I wasn't entirely sure what I was doing there, but I was wandering around eating a ham sandwich, interacting with everyone. Eventually, a guy in some sort of a traditional, Japanese theater costume (I'm guessing it was Kabuki because he wore white face paint with striking, black lines and occasional dots of red) stood up on a crate in front of everyone and called for our attention. He said the world has been cruel lately and we need to come together.

As he's talking, I notice a large, cornered off section of the field: it was a square, set out by short, stone walls, and the inner section starts off flat and ends in a hill. Down the hill, I realise there are people climbing up it, all Africans. I spin round and look at my group and realise there are no black people. I run over to help the people up the hill and, eventually, parts of my group notice me helping and come over to help too. The Japanese man looks evidently annoyed that I interrupted his monologue. The new set of people also have a guy in traditional get-up, specifically African war paint, and he's very kind and very friendly.

The Japanese man strides over as the last child makes it up the hill and demands we all hold hands and celebrate the "unison of diversity". A small, Asian woman yanks the sandwich out of my hand and delicately places it on the wall. She nods at me, as if to suggest it'll be there when we get back.

We start walking down the hill, humming some kind of peaceful song. Every now and then I would crane my neck around to see if my sandwich was still there. It was, but it was starting to droop down on one side, suggesting it might fall off at any given point. This filled me with anxiety but I carried on the peaceful march anyway. The march has become somewhat split, in that half the people are already walking alongside the opposite side of the square with the African leader. He is skipping with a young girl and laughing and generally having a good time.

Suddenly, from behind me, I hear the Japanese leader choking. I turn around and his eyes have rolled into the back of his head. I'm guessing he's having a heart attack or some kind of stroke, but everyone around us is panicking, wondering what to do.

Then he randomly teleports to the middle of the square. He's still choking a little but he's recovering. He beckons the African leader to the centre and says they should put on a show. The African man agrees and beckons one of the younger men to contribute. Unfortunately, the Japanese man picks me. I waddle forward and out of nowhere, the show begins: it becomes apparent very quickly that we're re-enacting scenes from Star Wars but they're wrong. The African man is playing Luke Skywalker and is fighting with the other young man, who is playing Obi Wan Kenobi.

I'm knocked to my feet and look up to see someone cosplaying as Darth Vader, trying to kill me. I quickly look down at myself and realise I'm dressed as Rey. I look for my light saber but can't find it. The Darth Vader groans and points to my side. "It's there, silly."

I look to my right. It's a black chopstick with a faint, blue light at the end.

I pick it up and start play fighting with Vader. At one point, Vader has me pinned to the ground, and I'm holding my chopstick over my head so his saber doesn't slice through mine. I managed to tear the mask away and it's actually Carrie Fischer. I'm star-struck for a moment and then resume the scene. We're having some kind of witty back and forth banter (I can't remember the dialogue specifically but it was very dramatic) and, at one point, I remember staring longingly over Carrie's shoulder to see my still half-eaten sandwich on the wall.

Someone yells "scene" and I push Carrie back, accidentally causing her to smack her head against one of the stone walls.

"Oh shit I'm so sorry, are you okay?" I say, rushing over. 

She laughs and rubs the back of her head, assuring me she's fine. She stands up and we both look over to see a man in his 40s, round spectacles, baby blue polo shirt, very white trousers and disgustingly white-blonde hair tutting and wagging his finger. He points at the African leader.

"You guys have the choreography down, very impressive arm movement. Careful on the fourth swing there, Brian." He looks at us. "Your choreography wasn't as up to par but that improvisation at the end with blocking the saber? Bravo, genius, mi amore. The dialogue as well was very fitting. Work on your footwork next time, though."

I sort of nod and look at Carrie. We're both confused because we thought we did a pretty good job. I look over and my sandwich is gone. I sigh and drop my chopstick, dejectedly.

ACT 2

I'm in a room, quite similar to my living room, except the TV is replaced with a desk and a chair, the sofa in the back corner is a few feet off the ground on top of some drawers and the other sofa is now a therapist couch. I'm sitting on the back corner sofa with Daniel (my friend). Ellie is sitting near the door in one of the swivel chairs. Wes is laying on the therapist couch.

The therapist in question had no name, and their gender changed constantly throughout the dream, so I have no idea what they really were. All I know is that they always wore rounded, old-fashioned glasses, they had chestnut coloured hair and they were Australian.

The therapist starts off talking to Wes about his childhood and then, without even looking at me, points their pen in my direction. "What about yours?" they say, not taking their eyes off Wes. 

I kind of stumble to begin with but then start confidently relaying everything. It leaves me feeling a little defeated and hurt because it wasn't apparent that this was my session and I didn't particularly want to talk about it.

The therapist resumes talking to Wes and Daniel leans over in my ear and whispers "wow, she's really good! I might consider going here". I look up at him and suddenly think about him in therapy. I'd never considered someone like Daniel to even want therapy. I nod in agreement but say nothing. He looks disappointed with my lack of response.

"Don't you have some input? Like, do you think I should?"

"I think that's entirely up to you. It's a very personal and sometimes harrowing experience," is what I eventually reply with. This answer doesn't seem to sit well with him either.

"Well, did it help you?"

I'm quiet. I wonder if counselling had helped me or not. I think about Vickie, my old counsellor, and all the weeks she helped me amble along in life. I suddenly become very regretful of everything. I spiral in my own head and wonder why I'm here, how I'm here, why I should try. Daniel seems to pick up on this and randomly starts hugging me. I just sit there startled.

He tells me it's okay and then says "next act".

ACT 3

I'm walking up some grandiose stairs. The banister has a sleek, oak finish. I run my hand along it, thinking "wow, this is a fucking impressive staircase. Whoever lives here is minted."

At the top of the staircase, there are four rooms: the one closest is the bathroom. I knock gently and enter. Nobody is in there. I look down to realise I'm carrying something in one hand: two towels, a plastic bag with three children's swimming costumes in it, and my phone. I pull the costumes out of the bag. They're all children's bikinis, except only the top halves are included and some swimming caps which are far too small. One is black with a frilly lace edge, one is bright, neon pink, orange and black, and one has cartoon fish on it.

I stand there, dumbfounded as to why I have these, until I hear the door open and someone enter.

It's my old best friend from high school, Amy. She looks older now: her frizzy, ginger hair is a bit bigger, but she herself has slimmed out tremendously. She's wearing ripped jeans and a white crop top with a floral pattern on it. She smiles and nods at me as she comes in, as if she was expecting my arrival.

"Long time no see," she says, as she walks in and puts her phone on the edge of the sink. She suddenly pulls the top over her head and starts stripping and I'm left in the corner, blushing, wondering what to do with my eyes. I choose a spot on the ceiling and continue the conversation.

 "I know, right? How is life? How's your boyfriend?" I see her smile out of the corner of my eye as she pulls her jeans down.

 "It's good. I'm going to Africa or Mexico or something with him in the summer, nice holiday away or something. Can you pass me the neon-coloured one?" I look down from the ceiling and at her.

 "What?"

She indicates to the children clothing in my hand. "The neon one. Pass it, please?"

 I sceptically hand over the garment, wondering what she's going to do with it. She couldn't possibly fit in it, even with all the weight she'd lost: it's literally designed for 8-year olds. Lo and behold, though, she tugs the top down over her bra and it magically fits. I'm amazed and look down at the black bikini top. Now I'm half tempted to try it. Amy is clearly on the same wave length because she then says "come on, you need to put one on too!"

I put the towels and remaining bikini set down on a green shelf behind me and pull my shirt off. As I take the bikini top out of the package and pull it down over myself, I can feel the material moving as if it were breathing, and moved so that it would fit. I pulled it down and looked in the mirror. I smiled. It looked really nice on me.

I look over to Amy who has gotten into the shower. She turns on the shower head and pulls the curtain across. Thing is, the curtain isn't very opaque, and as she pulls her bikini off, I can pretty much see everything. I stand there in awe for a second because she's extremely hot. Then I kind of snap out of it and start to question what's going on.

 "Wait, where did we bump into each other?"

 "At the field gathering inside of Westbourne, remember?" I assume at this point that she means the place from act one.

 "Why am I here? Where are we going?"

 "Well, I'm getting ready to go out. I'm going to a party. I invited you but you didn't want to go, something about not wanting to see anyone there."

 "Why wouldn't I want to go?"

 "It's at Westbourne."

I stop talking at that point. If it's Westbourne, then it would make sense that I wouldn't want to go, because I hated that place so much. I put my head down sadly as Amy clambered out of the shower. I offered her a towel without looking at her and she rubbed herself dry, then wrapped her hair up in a makeshift turban. I handed her another towel to cover her modesty and then I felt her manicured hand on my shoulder. I looked up at her.

"It's such a shame, you know. Look how different I am now. I'm fairly rich, I'm skinnier, I have a boyfriend…how different are you, Kirsten?"

ACT 4

I blink and I'm in a beige hallway. For some reason, I can hear Willam from Drag Race walking up a nearby corridor, bitching very loudly about how shit I am. I choose to ignore that and walk away. At the end of the hallway is a playground, which I quickly come to recognise as the Maths block playground from (you guessed it) my high school, Westbourne. I hurriedly walk across it, not wanting to look anyone in the eye. I didn't know where I was supposed to go but I knew that anywhere was better than this.

The entrance to the main building normally leads to a corridor: right for Maths and Music department, left for reception and the rest of the school. However, when I went into the entrance, it was a big yellow/beige room with loads of canteen tables and people sitting at them, eating. I found myself wandering behind each person, looking at what they were eating. Some was just macaroni and cheese, there was mouldy steak…one guy I noticed was actually a former classmate, Sean. He was eating bone marrow with the most dead-eyed expression I have ever seen. I whispered to him to catch his attention, but he simply turned his head slightly and stared at me with his motionless, sad eyes. I became freaked out and left.

I ran down a hallway to the right, but as I kept running, it became apparent that every hallway linked into another hallway and another fucking hallway until I became completely lost. I started panicking and running faster, but after what seemed hours, I gave up and sat on the carpet. I sat and sulked for a while until I heard Willam bitching about me again. I suddenly sprung to my feet: I'd heard him earlier, surely he must be somewhere near where I started.

I followed the voice until it became clearer. I could now hear what Willam was saying: "Kirsten is such a fucking bitch, though. I'm surprised anyone loves her. I wouldn't fuck that even if I was paid to. Have you seen her eyes? Or her hair? What's wrong with her?"

I slowed down running. I suddenly felt very defeated after being called such horrible things. "I know I'm a bitch!" I yell aloud to nobody. A door suddenly appears at the end of the hallway I'm currently walking down. I run to it and burst free into the open air. For a moment I'm too excited to be out to notice where I am: I'm just so set on enjoying freedom. Then I open my eyes and realise where I am: I'm in a field, with hundreds of other people, and a Japanese man in traditional, theater gear gets up on a crate box to talk.