Do you possess an Inner Theatre too? -- Tonight: What Could Have Been, a play in three seconds, beautiful but quickly gone. It is staged quite against our will, with no regard for the bitter aftertaste that must follow when Reality comes crushing down. The dream vanishes, or rather, cracks down instantly and painfully like a soap bubble of glass with all the little shards shearing and cutting. And there you are.
It was my friend Marie -- we discussed this subject intensely, and her imagination is actually a tad bit, just a wee bit weirder than mine -- who helped me to find some hope in all this -- solace somehow, here in the shape of stars/flowers. Quite vague and symbolic, true, but there might be as many different kinds of comfort blossoming as there are plays: The child that never was born, the dances that never were danced and having that special someone that you'll never get, etc. etc. This work needed some bright spots that weren't false limelight. (In any crowd, there must be a multitude of these involuntary dream plays going on inside, and we can only show a few.)
And you promise yourself never to think again, dream again, bury down in work and business and routine and whatnot. Chase the actors away, no limelight. Before you know it, however, there's another play coming up with new transient scenes of Could or Should Have Been and longings unfulfilled. And then: Curtain.
More flowers, we need more flowers!