Dream was a very strange episode – or three
I’ve got a pal who has always reckoned he has sequential dreams. In other words, his dreams are like watching a series on Netflix. He can wake up, go back to sleep and pick up the dream where he left off.
This has never happened to me until the other night.
As usual, my dream was about my former profession as an actor. On this rare occasion, my sleep wasn’t disturbed by nightmares about not being ready in time, essential props being missing or lines being unlearnt.
This time we seemed to be touring in a rural part of Germany and I actually had some time off before the show. I decided to go for a walk. The countryside was exquisite, with woodland stretching for miles and the odd expensive-looking house peeping up above the trees.
I discovered a sun-dappled pool in the middle of a copse which I thought would make a great picnic spot for the cast. I even picked a bunch of forget-me-nots and grasses to brighten up the dressing room.
And then the nightmare took over. I was completely lost! I had no idea in which direction to go to get back to the theatre. Time was marching on. My feet felt heavy, and the country lanes seemed to get steeper and steeper.
I woke with a start and feeling hot and bothered, I poured myself a glass of water. On getting back to bed, I fell immediately asleep and found myself once more in the sunlit German countryside.
This time I decided I would ask for directions and entered several of the lovely gardens attached to the aforementioned villas.
Not a single person, whether weeding the vegetable patch, preparing the tennis court or merely lying prone on a sun lounger acknowledged my existence. In fact, they seemed to look right through me!
I was starting to get extremely nervous, but seeing an open door at the side of a particularly impressive art deco mansion (I remember thinking Bauhaus?) I went in. A group of blond-haired teenagers were mooching about.
They showed me a map, which I could barely decipher, and then of course I couldn’t find my way out of the house with its labyrinthine passages and staircases.
Again, I woke in a panic. I felt I should don my apnoea mask, as it ensures a more relaxed sleep.
And lo! There I was back in my dream. My mask had become a full head helmet and I was on the back of a motorbike driven by our sound engineer who had obviously been sent out by the worried cast to find me.
After what seemed an age, I realised he was going further and further away from the theatre.
I tried in vain to tell him to turn round but to no avail. I was definitely going to miss curtain up. I jolted awake for the third time, hugely anxious and with a mouth as dry as a Farley’s rusk.
I’d had my serial dream, but next time I think I’ll stick with Netflix.