Posted by: normanlgreen | April 30, 2012

Dream, April 30, 2012 Kids’ chorography & battery trash

Dream, home, 5:58 am

Attend the dress rehearsal for a production from the Bellingham Children’s Theatre. Instead of watching from the audience, I take a chair backstage. A twenty foot square canvas has been laid on the floor – not stretched over a frame, but painted deep orange.  The curtain is still drawn between stage and the house.

Fourteen kids, all under four foot in height, swirl onto the stage in a line that interweaves, then separates into two shifting patterns of seven. The choreography is inspired and their execution floors me. I do not even mind that their dance takes them across the drying canvas.

When they are done. I leave via stage left steps. In the second tier of seats, there is another group of kids, all four years old, but made-up with gray hair (the boys in brush cuts) and age makeup. They look like tiny aristocrats attending the opera. They turn to me sharply and applaud with great enthusiasm for a couple of seconds, then just as abruptly stop and turn away from me, their attention back to the stage. I pass them, shrugging off an adult who wants to take me to task. I tell him, “you can’t compete with four-year-olds.”

The floors are filthy. I stoop to pick up some litter, but cannot find a trash can into which I may put it.

The door leads to an exterior balcony – it is bright afternoon. I take the curve of the building to the left and find a men’s locker room.

Against the far wall, by the sinks, there is a bunk bed. I lay down on the top bunk and drift to sleep. I wake at the sound of water – a man is washing in the sink to my right. Another man is asleep on the same bed as me. I get up quietly to let him sleep on.

The litter I picked up in the theatre is still in my hand. Amidst the food wrappers, there is an over-sized blue tooth headset for a phone. It has a shorted circuit. Smoke and sparks come for the boom mic. I take out the batteries as I leave the locker room. They are sticky with chewing gum. I try to toss the batteries into a red trash can, but the gum has joined one of the c cells to my shirt cuff. I try to scrape it free with a square of cardboard. No go.


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