I straight up dreamt last night that I was in a theater, and I was happy. Like I was in a theater, a dark and slightly cold theater, my favorite place, watching a rehearsal of a play I’d written some eight years ago, THIS PLAY, in fact:
…and I was just watching the actors act the words that I wrote, build on them and make them better, clarify my own intentions, and I was just sitting there thinking to myself, I love this. A pure and uncynical and grateful love. And then I had to go next door to another theater because there were some other people rehearsing another one of my old plays, and so I just sat with them for a while and watched them work. And I just sat there loving what I do, in love with sitting in cold places and observing the magic seconds when a thing that’s lived only in my head starts to exist with other people and outside of myself, in love with the the moments when we’re all so slightly cold, and all so happy to be there.