Day 401: Easy Action

anxiety dream 

So, the long post-Sivaratri night, I missed a pond date with Mel, sleeping through a text and three alarms (only one of which I heard at all and instantly 'snoozed' [=switched off]) as I dreamt that I was in Germany visiting Jason and his wife Uta, who I knew years ago at university. We were going out for the day with his kids. I kept thinking I had to let Mel know I wasn't there, then I'd think 'no, I don't have to do that, I'm in Germany'. I was right and I was wrong. I was definitely flitting between realities. I woke up into this one 'well late' and didn't make it to swim. 

much scarier dream

This morning, a different kind of dream, kind of an anxiety dream and a little bit embarrassing. I was in a group of people in some kind of workshop situation. Perhaps it was a Sivaratri, or was about to be, or impro, or some kind of discussion group. We were all sitting around in a circle. Thing is, in the dream*, I seem to have farted... and it was quite unpleasant. People were coming to sit down and were commenting about it. The minutes went by and it was still bad. I owned up. It didn't go down well. 

Once again, I realise my teenage self would have been mortified even if nobody else had ever found out, and yet here I am shouting about it. Ah well. Perhaps I have learnt something, or perhaps I will never learn. 

metaphor

Some glorious moments of gleeful improv tonight with the shit-hot Montreal crew, Marc and Brent. Their Easy Action show rocked the night before, I hear (they improvise a full action movie, just the two of them, from an audience suggestion). They were lovely and on form - good workshop leaders and very listeny to each other, which is great to watch. Perhaps they will help me arrange a workshop for my trip to Montreal (about which I am very excited indeed).


Grateful, as always, for any opportunity to play, and for some fabulous people to play with. Joanna and Pam and I seemed to make each other laugh a lot. And next weekend, I get to have a playdate with Clare, who is a fabulous improv teacher and all-round brilliant lady. Bring. It. On.

* It may not be scientific, but I have reason to believe that perhaps what happened was that act was not isolated in the dream. In fact, perhaps it was the other way round. Perhaps the dream was a product of the sleepy reality, trapped beneath two duvets. I have no Actual Proof but I have a very strong suspicion. I'm not proud. I am honest, though.