A conscience from a stage scene from a theatre Part1

weird dream....

I am at Sissinghurst dressed like Oscar Wilde, writing scenes for a play that happen behind me:

there is like a royal stage, behind me as I write but split in three parts or —three separate stages all in a row that you can watch all happen at the same time and in my dream it is seen as if from a camera that pans around an audience then moves to watch from stage to stage as scenes are played out

One is all in black and white like a Hitchcock set in an artist’s studio

another is Elan with the smeden, Raoul and portrayed as in mime with gray and azure colors like a painting, projected from the gallery lights

the third stage I am sat writing with a feather quill pen writing the dictionary/diary ..... being narrated by Orpheus, portraying Virgil from the Underworld, who wields his power through his magical eyes and voice;

like weird alternate levels of the Devine Comedy


But it is when the dream changes that it becomes terrifying and sinks into a murky nightmare that originates from some terrible dark place inside and

where I get lost

....it is a darkness that keeps me under

like trying to shake off some strong anesthesia that feels so heavy; like tons of cotton balls clouding my head; this dark place is so terrifying;I don’t want to be here.... inside


because he finds me nearly exactly how he left me earlier today he is alarmed


“It has been over ten hours since I left!”

I am confused at first by what he means by this

“I’ve been to Quebec and back and you have not even moved! I’m calling a doctor—“ he exclaims with all the drama to do his family proud

“Quebec? I thought you said Montreal....?” I get confused

“Quick geography lesson— min lilla duva, Montreal is in Quebec! It’s a province!”

“You don’t have to be insulting about it,” I whisper it resentfully but I say in my defense, “I’m not an idiot I just got confused but anyway I have moved from here because I spoke to Ilya earlier to go over paperwork and also Johnny called before because now Hanna wants to do a photo shoot with— what’s his name again? Lisa’s boyfriend— Alphonso? Well, anyway.... “ but he’s looking at me as if I have two heads

I watch him pace back and forth a few times.

Now I do feel ashamed....? I guess. Is that what I feel? Because I don’t know how I feel these days.

I realize now I am at that crisis moment of my life.

The breaking point

How good that I am documenting this.... I am thinking .... writing this from my phone


half in and out of his conversation

“My parents are coming,” he says now

“What?!” I almost fall from the step I am sitting on at the base of the stairs

He looks at me and comes over,
“they know something is wrong, Duva and they think it is  because of them somehow. I tried to talk them out of this.”

“Shit....” I say

I can’t let them see me! I can’t be around people!

I cover my face and start to cry

He comes to sit beside me. He reaches for me. And by reflex I turn away. I try to keep the fortress bolted because I was not supposed to breakdown just there. He surprised me with his news. This panic that sweeps over me is like a wave; like Wavegirl’s wave from my painting

and as I fight him to release me, he fights me to accept him

he pins me to the stair and holds me firm. He says into my ear,
“let me in....”