Last night I dreamed I had auditioned for and was accepted to participate in some grandiose theatre’s presentation of several short well-known ballet excerpts.
I was put on the program for three or four dances, all solo (of course) that apparently I had done the best on during the tryouts.
It wasn’t until some ten to fifteen minutes prior to the curtains rising on opening night that I realized that not only do I, in reality, know nothing about ballet, I also had no idea what the choreography was for the pieces I was supposed to perform.
I panicked when I saw I was the second on the list to dance, and tried to spend my few remaining minutes memorizing this “cheat sheet” of choreographed moves, but only succeeded in ever remembering about five steps, and that was it. The first dance was nothing short of a farce (though I believe no-one noticed but me) but the second was no better, even though I tried to mask my incompetence by “spicing things up” (a.k.a. adding dialogue to the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy.)
I woke up in a sweat only seconds before I had to appear onstage a third time, realizing with a groan that you can’t add dialogue to ballets, as ballets are expressly to be performed without spoken words, and I honestly thoroughly savored my relief at the lovely fact that it was all just a dream.
As I thought back on the dream through the morning (as I am wont to do with ones as vividly horrid as this) I realized that I had experienced a manifestation in my sleep of the fear I had felt right before going to bed; fear that concerned my eleven o’clock appointment as a volunteer interpreter with the Good Samaritan Health Center. I worried that I would somehow be unable to interpret something, or all the words would jumble in my mouth and I would be able to speak only incoherent sounds like whrrr and uhhhh.
I feared this, despite the fact that I had already applied for the volunteer position
(I had auditioned for the ballet)
I had been taken on after dropping by for an interview
(They assigned me the dances I was best at)
But yesterday my Spanish was really rusty
(I had forgotten all the choreography)
And I was so worried I’d make a fool of myself
(Like adding dialogue to a BALLET.)
Despite the rather forboding nature of the nightmare, today went fine.