The Troupe

I’m trying to remember my dreams (see two posts ago) for my scriptwriting subject at uni. Well, I haven’t been writing them down but one has stuck with me for its sheer oddness. You know how that happens every now and then? You get that one dream that makes you go “huh?” and consider the possibility that your subconscious could somehow be experimenting with recreational drugs? I had one of those.

In my mind’s eye (sidenote – why do minds only have one eye? Why can’t they have two like us? What if the circumstances arose that they would require depth perception? Our minds would be screwed!) I’m walking down a downward sloping alley in a metropolitan area with a group of about twelve to fifteen people. These people are a mish-mash of people from school and a handful of friends. I’m not sure what we’re doing in the city or where we’re headed, but for whatever reason everyone seems enthusiastic and energetic. I can’t rule out that there wasn’t high five-ing and that playful kind of gentle shoving. It all seemed very slow motion and music video-ish (with no music).

I’m at the head of the group as we approach the end of the alley of friendly pushing when something catches my eye and I get an idea. What I see is a big empty room that would normally be closed off by a really wide roller door. The room is bare but for what looks like a row of changing room stalls along the back wall. The heights of each door vary, but dream Dale doesn’t notice that. He’s too busy enjoying slinking into the room, kind of dancing his way towards one of the stalls. The others watch for a second before cottoning on to his fantastic idea and dancing their way into the room too. Before long each of the stalls contain people flailing their arms around, jumping up and down, making dancing facial expressions and having the times of their lives. There are a throng of people, who couldn’t fit in the now crowded stalls, dancing in front of them too. By this stage music has mysteriously filled the air, as if brought on by the impromptu dancing.

That continued for a while before eventually the music died out and people started to make their way out of the strange room. High five-ing and chest bumping etc definitely happened as everyone was exiting, and I turned to the nearest group of people with a sudden revelation:

“We can be called the Parma Dancers!”

It made sense to those people, but I’m now stupefied about where it came from. I don’t think we in any way were dancing like parmigianas or in tribute to them. Because how and why would you do that? I’m pretty sure it’s not possible (but I would love for someone to prove otherwise!).

Anyway, that was my dream. Any psychoanalysts feel free to go to town on it. :)

Dale.