The Scottish Dream

Most people in theater know the proverbial dream: the one where you’re doing a show and you realize you don’t know any of the lines, missed all of the rehearsals and now you need to go on to a full house complete with a New York Times critic. I have that dream often, although since I’ve been teaching, my subconscious has added in a shrill school administrator who usually shows up to ask for test score data. Last night I had the most vivid variation of this dream yet. I was playing Macbeth in a production comprised of those reverent actors one usually only sees on the James Lipton Tongue-in-Butt Hour. I showed up to the front door of the theater and realized the show had already started. Oh, well, I thought. I wasn’t feeling particularly in the mood to perform and I knew I didn’t know the lines. I decided to take off my pants, leave them at the door and go have a beer instead. Later, the cast found me at the pub and berated me, except for one astute, organically-trained Lesbian actress. It turns out they had miraculously gotten through the entire performance without the appearance of Macbeth. No stand-ins, no understudy. They all just ad-libbed and talked about him a lot. The Lesbian, playing Lady Sarah, (who’s Lady Sarah?) devised a plot turn where she takes over the crown. She was really proud of her improvisational skills and the fact that a woman could rule Scotland in the 11th century. I’m not sure if she shacked up with Lady Macbeth, as things got a bit fuzzy after my third pint. I’m so glad theater is still in my blood.