The Dream

Not too long ago I had a dream. Part of it was a recurring theme -- I often dream about being in a play and not knowing my lines -- but this one had a new twist and was incredibly vivid, which is why I remember it so well.

We were doing a play of the life of Christ. A full-on production, with music and dancing. When they were passing out parts, they originally wanted me to have a fairly large role, and I refused and said “No, I’ll take the part of Deborah (or Phoebe – the name switched half way through the dream). This part was of a woman who met up with Christ near the end of the play, on the road to somewhere, and had ONE line. There were other lines originally, but I didn’t think I would be able to handle them, so let the girl playing the Virgin Mary take them over.

So we’re having the rehearsal, and I remember that when the guy playing Jesus entered the room, even though the room was crowded beyond belief with cast members, his presence was just magnetic. I wanted to be near him. I kept brushing his arm, or finding excuses to talk to him, or be near him. And he gave me a hug – a big warm hug. And made me feel special, like he loved me especially. I remember this Jesus in my play/dream was robust – had the obligatory brown hair and beard, but was not fragile, was not even overly serious, like he’s often portrayed in pictures. He smiled a lot and joked around with people. But you could feel he was strong. Later, after rehearsal was over, we went outside to the darkness and looked up to the stars, and I saw some lights moving in odd ways – not in orbits, not like satellites. I asked my Dad 9who popped into the dream just for this occasion) “Did you see that?” He said yes. He thought they were Israeli and U.S. war planes way up in the sky dog-fighting an enemy. So Jesus and I laid down on the grass and looked up into the sky and watched these little lights dance around each other up in space, but then a few of them swept very low and got very close to us. I could see that they were war planes dog-fighting. I don’t remember being frightened, because I was lying next to Jesus on the grass, and it was just so wonderful being next to him.

So then the dream shifts to the day of the performance. The auditorium is filled to capacity and everyone is getting into costume, and I realize I really don’t have much of a costume – just an old nightgown that’s supposed to look like ancient robes. Everyone else is in lavish, ornate costumes. So I see a coral silk scarf with beaded ends lying around, and ask if I can put that over my head, and whoever tells me it’s okay. Then I follow the crowd to the back of the auditorium to watch the beginning of the play, because my part is near the end. I ask for a program, because I have forgotten where I come in – I remember it only vaguely from rehearsal. Then I start looking around for a script to memorize my one line. Finally, I find one from the woman playing the Virgin Mary, and I say “but you have such a long part – are you sure you don’t need this?” And she says it’s okay if I take hers. The play is continuing with music and dancing, and the crowd is really getting into it. Then we move backstage, and it’s time for us to perform a group number that involves singing and dancing, and I flub my way through it because I’m just part of a group, and can follow everyone else’s lead. I remember being amazed at the lead actors, because they know their parts so well, and the play was going great. At one point, backstage, the lady playing Mary says something about her upcoming part, and I say “NO! That’s MY part! I am Phoebe” (This is the part of the dream that my part changes from Deborah to Phoebe). And I insist that she doesn’t take over that one line from me, because I’ve let her take over all the other lines that were originally meant for me. I’m supposed to go onstage and ask Jesus something when he is on the road to somewhere. I really want to play my part, but I don’t know my line. So I get the script, cut out my one line, and put it on the palm of my hand. I keep re-reading it, trying to memorize it, but I can’t. And I worry that even though I have the “cheat sheet” in my hand, I won’t know my cue to go onstage, or know how to move once there. I have a vague recollection of rehearsal, but that’s all it is – vague – and everyone else knows their parts so well. I can’t wait to be on stage with Jesus, because it means I get to be close to him again, like I was when we were on the grass looking up into the sky.

It’s only one line. I had already given up the rest of the part to someone else. But the play is going so well, and everyone else is doing such a great job, I don’t want to mess it up.

And then I wake up.