Friday, 16 October 2009

Theatre of Dreams

Regular readers will recall that I have dreamt about David Eldridge before, and so it was last night. The dream didn't develop very far as I was awoken by Lauren's boyfriend, Kyle, banging about in the kitchen. He's just come back from touring Japan* with Emmy the Great and he's got jetlag. I got up this morning to find a bowl of rosti, and directions for how to cook it, and a note of explanation saying, I got up early and cooked a huge breakfast. You don't say. Although if I'd been forced to guess, I'd have said it sounded as though he'd decided to open a kindergarten on a whim and had risen before dawn to rearrange the furniture for the expected influx of small charges, and while doing so he had to fight a small black bear who had been hibernating in the garden and stumbled in to our house and got a saucepan stuck on its head, and the reason that all the lights were left on was to frighten away any other possible intruders, to keep the place safe.

Anyway, David Eldridge and I were going somewhere on a train somewhere together, and it's auspicious enough to be travelling in the same direction as that lovely man in a dream. He's got a show opening in Coventry, Babylone, so maybe we were going to see that.

Last week I dreamt, twice, about James Martin Charlton, another writer I hardly know. In one dream, we were on holiday with a group of people in a Harper's Island thriller/adventure kind of scenario. And in the next, I had gone to the theatre with the West End Whingers and my parents, and bumped into James and a friend drinking wine, which made us late for the show, which was The Winters Tale set in a theatre as big as a factory, with all the action taking place simultaneously around and below us. I found it almost impossible to reach my seat, which was a very good one as it had been pre-booked by the Whingers, and was at the front of the Dress Circle, no. M8. I don't know the significance of the seat number, though I said it over and over again in the dream. Of course, 'm8' is text speak for 'mate'. But I don't think that's got anything to do with it. James has got a play on at the Miniaturists on Sunday, at the Arcola, so I'm looking forward to that.

Another person I have dreamt about in the past is Chris Goode, though I have never met him. I read on his blog that he has a series of shows coming up in November at the Camden People's theatre, including a revival of Hippo World Guest Book, which I've always wanted to see. So, to preclude him turning up in my dreams to remind me about it, I have booked a ticket.

* I'm very proud of this, which is why I have contrived a way to mention it here.

7 comments:

JohnnyFox said...

love the stream of consciousness, but how could M8 be a seat at the front of anything? Surely they all start with row A ???

Helen Smith said...

Exactly! That's the nature of dreams.

David Cottis said...

Funnily enough, I once had a dream abut Andrew from the West End Whingers. He was wearing a velvet jacket with buttons made from pound coins, and I was pushing a supermarket trolley upstairs on the Underground, which prompted him to observe 'Ah, I see that you've been reading T. S. Eliot on the plays of Ibsen.' I have no idea what any of this means.

Helen Smith said...

No, nor have I. But it's fantastic.

Andrew Orange said...

I wish I had interesting dreams. Actually, the other day I was having a lovely dream - I was with Steve Lawrence and Eydie Gorme - but my mother (with whom I was staying at the time) woke me up.

I want to see the hippo thing too but an away. :-(

Hodmandod said...

Emmy the Great! I put her in the Vogue Hot List for 2006 because I love her song about books.

Helen Smith said...

Yay! We love Emmy!