Tuesday, April 04, 2006

And me without my spikes.

After reading an article about a soprano who, in her 40s, was about to make her mainstage Met debut, and reading the subsequent argument on the singer's forum about similar events and the insane jealously that accompanies other singers' successes, I had a dream last night that I was asked to step in for an ailing First Lady in The Magic Flute (even though that's a soprano role, but my subconscious obviously doesn't care) at the Met when the Seattle Opera general director had taken over the role of GM there and hired me from having heard me sing at my chorus audition.

In my debut, I mispronounced two words, which in my dream were Italian, even though the opera is in German (again, very confused subconscious) and my cast mates were very upset with me. I kept getting lectures from EVERYONE, wherever they could find me: the office; the hall; the cafeteria; the bathroom... Also, they were mad at me for not being thin as the singer I was replacing, which made the costume scandalously tight and, oh yes, sleeveless. Good times all around.

Well, after my disastrous debut, I was called into the GD's office to find out if I would be fired or given another chance. I entered the office with a clenched stomach to find the GD on the floor sitting next to his dog, who 1. wore a white, plastic cone around her neck to prevent wound chewing, 2. spoke in a woman's voice and 3. relayed everything the GD wanted to say through the apparent mind meld she shared with him. Somehow I found this totally normal. The costume shop was next door and, as I was STILL wearing the electric blue tank and genie pants, the costumers kept coming in to hold fabric in front of me, presumably to see if the color would look right with my cheeks which were flushed lobster red.

Now, I understand the whole being called to the "principal's" office, and the rest blah blah, but why were we singing on the side of a cliff, and why did I have to wedge myself into a crevasse and sing to the other cast members on the plain below? And why was everything so foreshortened? AND WHY was I then transported to a huge office building elevator shaft where employees had decided to dump all paper products? I had to jump in and slide to the bottom, catch a car and make my way back to the opera house. Why? Where was the elevator? Was the elevator my career??



AAM said...

Genie pants mean you will eat pudding with a myterious stranger.

shellswick said...

I could explain it to you...but fjoejoj thie kninolfnl