A couple nights ago, I had a dream I was performing in On the Razzle again, except I couldn't find my costume and the directors cut the script last-minute, so I forgot all my lines and cues.

I was poking around backstage looking for the fake sliced bologna (and for some reason, it was imperative that I walk onstage holding the fake sliced bologna), but I couldn't find it. (Someone told me later that it was inside the oven, with all the other fake sliced meat. Obviously.) I also couldn't find my costume, which turned out to be in the refrigerator, with the rest of the costumes. Silly me.

I missed my cues a few times, and Alice and TK were onstage being devastatingly silent waiting for me to come on, looking kind of annoyed that I had missed my cue again, when John came up and hauled me over his shoulder to carry me onstage kicking and screaming (as actually happens in the script), even though I wasn't in costume, hadn't found the fake bologna, didn't know my lines, and was having trouble making any noise.

After he put me back on the ground, I looked out at the audience, got glassy-eyed, and pelted off the stage.

I think my subconscious is trying to tell me something about failure.
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