Last night I dreamed it was the final performance of The Marriage of Figaro (again), only this time everything went wrong (instead of the perfect final show we really had, last Sunday). From the moment I started the overture, the beautiful choreographed opening was jacked up by technical problems with the sound system and the lights. It was total disaster, and the cast and the audience started yelling at me, Paul, and each other. The show was ruined, including some relationships; everything was chaos. There were audience members in the booth and backstage, and people were screaming at each other (I think Laura McCann was there), and I was at the center of all of it, telling people off, wielding a fire extinguisher, making inappropriate comments, and pouring glasses of two buck Chuck (and charging them $3).
Oh, and at the end of it all I had a proposal of marriage and an invitation to go to Hawaii.
It seems stupid to have the anxiety dream after the fact, doesn't it? Not that I'm going to Hawaii, I just mean that show was pretty successful, my job was easy and mostly unseen and stress-free... and it's over.
Until next time, I guess!