My Heaven play is getting a lovely production at the Theater Alliance in DC. Being that it’s very much about where we go when we die — and how to deal with loss — a dc theater website decided to run an article about how the actors felt the Orlando shooting affected their Sunday matinee performance. It was sent to me last night and reading it, I was overcome with a tingle of THIS IS WHY. Cut to my dreamscape: somewhere between a rowboat and a room filled with overturned martini glasses? I dreamt that I told someone, whoever I was talking to — which in dreams is usually every single person I went to middle school with shoved into one body — that I wanted to make a list of plays that lift people up and out of tragedy — both the characters within the play, and those watching. I was standing on an overturned martini glass, delivering a speech. Plays should uplift. That was the word on the backs of my eyes when I woke up this morning. Lift up. UPLIFT.