It’s alright, ’twas but a dream…

But first…
Dulltown, UK/Europe: Today’s mongoose is the one looking at some geese and wondering…
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

It must have been that 70% cocoa dark chocolate bar that someone give me as a seasonal present! I had only two or three squares last evening, but it was obviously too near to bedtime. My body’s not used to chocolate, I cut down on it a while back when I noticed I was getting a little bit porky round the middle.

Oh, but I don’t think I’m late for the meeting – can this be the place? It looks derelict – an old plain red brick building – a sort of scruffy yard, the sort a builder might have – knotty grey plywood on the windows – why is there no one here? But they should know that I don’t do theatre work any more – look, it’s getting dark now – but there’s no one here! A long narrow room – a rusty steel framed roof supported by dirty square concrete pillars down the middle – dimpled walls with the whitewash peeling off them – the floor is littered with bricks, pieces of wood, dust everywhere, sheets of dented brown corrugated cardboard – I don’t know what this place is – it smells of must and damp – ‘Hi Dave!’ – Who is that? Lots of people coming in from the other end – young yelping children running about the place – who are these people I’ve never met, calling me Dave? – ‘And what do you think of it so far Dave?’ Did I hang my winter coat up near the door over there when I came in? Is there someone in charge here? The children are running about kicking up the plaster dust – and what is the play that you are doing? Who are these overweight Goths in long shiny black leather coats, and with blue hair? They don’t speak much, do they? The Youth Theatre? I expect they are too cool to talk – is there someone in charge of all this? So, you – what sort of a set do you require? A director, a stage manager, an administrator, a writer perhaps? It’s getting very loud in here – with a proscenium arch? I’m sorry I came – would anyone really mind, if I left? My winter coat is hanging by the door – stagehands are folding up small model houses made of cardboard – see how they flop down flat on the filthy debris strewn floor – this is the most disorganised theatre company I’ve ever… ‘Hello Dave, how’s is going?’ – ‘Everything alright?’ We’ll never clear up all this rubble in time for… – what sort of scenery is it that you want? And what is the play? On a raked stage? Does anyone know what’s going on? Ah, there’s my coat – ‘You’re not leaving, are you Dave’ – Yes, I am, this is truly awful! – Oh, it’s a lovely day outside – the air is clear, it’s a crisp sort of day – a cloudless blue sky – red vehicles going down the spotless road – who are you two? Why are you behind me?  Goths from the Youth Theatre – please don’t follow me – look, let’s walk up by the dock – look at those ripples and the bright coloured reflections of the barges on the water – so realistic – please stop following me! I don’t need to do scenery any more – this day is so clear and real – it’s almost like a dream – but no, it’s real – look at the dockside, the ships, the big granite-built warehouse with the central clock with no hands, lit by the sun, at the end, it can’t be a dream – it’s so very real…

About Dave Whatt

Grumpy old surrealist artist, musician, postcard maker, bluesman, theatre set designer, and debonair man-about-town. My favourite tools are the plectrum and the pencil...
This entry was posted in abstract, brain, conversation, cool, creation, design, drama, dreaming, Dulltown, existentialism, Hull.UK., humour, mind, observations, people, puzzle, seeing, serendipity, style, surrealism, sweating, theatre, words and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to It’s alright, ’twas but a dream…

  1. Dana Doran says:

    Oh, I do love a good mongoose story…yes, I have had a run in with them…years ago they were imported to Maui to take care of rats….. ha!

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