So I dreamed I went to the theater in London that was showing Xanadu: the Musical on the day before its last performance, and there was the woman playing Kira in the lobby, all sad and mopey. I had a program with me I'd just been giving for free because they had a lot left. "Don't worry about it closing," I said, "Xanadu is a great show. You're a great actress, umm, umm" (as I flipped through the program to find her name).
"It's XXX," she said, "and if I was great, you would have known. You didn't even bother seeing the show, did you?"
"No," I admitted. There were two more performances but I was going to slack off and hang out with my friends instead. "I love it, though, I love the music and I know all of the songs."
"That's great," she said, "I don't want to perform. You do it. You'd be better."
So ... there I was, getting the costume and makeup on, going out to perform Kira in a play. There was a scene with an old woman at the beginning, who nodded at me. It was great! It was a rush! Like magic, I knew all of the dance routines, the dialogue, everything.
During the intermission, someone came up to me: there had been a terrible tragedy. The old woman in act two had had a heart attack. Everyone in the cast was crying. The original Kira said, "I'm going to stop feeling sorry for myself and go back and do the show." Since I suddenly realized I didn't know the script at all, I was okay with it, and she explained to me how it would help energize the rest of the cast. I watched the rest of the show from the wings, then came onstage to play an audience member in the final club scene.
When it all ended, I found out it was all a hoax; the old woman had never died. Since Xanadu is about a place that "makes dreams come true," every night the first act is performed by a fan, whom has to be replaced in Act 2 when the real singing chops were called for. I did tell them about my idea for Xanadude, about a guy who only wants to own a drag club. Then I woke up and realized it was all a dream, and decided (since it was nice and cold outside) I'd go back to sleep and see what other great things my brain came up with, in this case a nice conversation with me and Harold Pinter in a park.
Today is going to be all about cleaning the house - the pile of laundry in my room is at wading depth and the bathroom hasn't been touched since before I busted my tailbone. I'm pretty well healed, now, so it's time to get back on the horse. But first, breakfast.
