Dreamweaver

Last night I had the weirdest dream. I hardly ever remember my dreams, so when I do, I take note.

I was back in high school and was a student director of a show. I was in turmoil because one of my students had been arrested for some reason right before the big show and another of the girls was having a hard time in life and was crying. Typical high school, right?

Well, the curtain rises and the police bring my one student back. It wasn't because he was wrongfully accused, but because apparently there is a clause that allows minors to leave jail to sing in musical performances. In an weird, God works all things for good kind of way (this is what I as a director was thinking), the juvenile delinquent now takes the main singing role of the boy who just got stage fright. But the j.d. can do this because he has no fears since he will be in jail and won't have the scorn of his friends. So the curtain rises, and I tell the crying girl as she and I are lounging on a couch, if this is too much for her, to just tell me. She assures me she will be okay as we listen to the opening act which happens to be in Spanish. Now my Spanish is a little rusty, but my key lines of translation are, "I am going to spend all of my money at the mall," and "I love Keanu Reeves."

That's all.