I’ve stated before that I don’t have symbolic dreams, and I stand by that. My dreams are usually either a mishmash of pop culture that I’ve been thinking about lately or fairly realistic dreams involving personal situations I’m worried about.
I’ve already had the pop culture dream this year. This morning, I had the worrisome one.
If you’re the sort of person who likes listening to dreams that didn’t really happen about movies that didn’t really happen, here comes one now!
I dreamed that my improv troupe was hired to do a gig at my workplace. It was booked as an all-ages show, and each employee was allowed to bring a plus-one. On the day of the show, we found out that we were supposed to put on this hour-long show in a tiny conference room, where the audience would have to stand the entire time. Our troupe leader, John, pointed out that lights and refreshments were already set up in the room. The gig was for five times the amount of money we usually get, so nobody said a word. The audience of my co-workers and their plus-ones shuffled in. Nobody brought any children, so we asked if we could move the show up to an R-rating. We were told no, to do the show we were booked for. We started the performance, and it went fairly well, but one woman, looking like the real-life equivalent of Ms. Crabtree from South Park (sans the bird), began yelling, “This is not funny!” We tried to ignore her, but she kept complaining, shouting out suggestions when we didn’t ask for them, and swigging from a bottle of wine. Finally, she yelled, “Hey, move back towards me! I can’t see! Everybody should be able to see! Don’t you know anything about theater?” At this point, I snapped. I launched a barrage of insults and filthy language at her, then went on to harass my co-workers, finally judging their guests based on appearance alone. My fellow actors tried to hold me back. Eventually the audience began throwing blows and kicking at me; the troupe valiantly attempted to protect me. Everyone stormed out. One co-worker said, “That was pretty funny.” My boss told me that my lack of “people skills” would prevent me from receiving a promotion, and to check back Monday to see if I still worked there. She left me and my troupe in silence. Everyone was looking at the floor, waiting to see who would scold me first. When nobody did, I walked over to a DVD player in the room and cued up Top Gun. “YOU SON OF A BITCH!” everybody yelled in unison.
Then I woke up.
First of all, I was relieved that this didn’t actually happen. Everything in this dream is something on my mind lately. My troupe needs a gig, I need a big promotion at work, and I have to watch Top Gun, even at the worst possible times. I think my brain was trying to project one possible future.
Also, I attribute the sitcom-like nature of this dream to the fact that I had a very long, very in-depth conversation yesterday about the different writing styles of sitcoms, primarily Community and The Big Bang Theory. This is probably why the whole thing reads like a 22-minute A-story and B-story intertwining. And seriously, doesn’t the ending sound like it needs a freeze frame and some credits?
Maybe a saxophone riff?
Of course, the one part I really see happening is my devotion to SCIENCE. Theoretically, at some point in this experiment, a major life crisis is going to happen to me, and I think this dream is telling me that, maybe every so often, you need to put Top Gun on pause… but Movie Science doesn’t play that way.