Dream

Here’s a dream from last night.

I share a dorm room with three other guys, one of whom is my brother. It’s a small, narrow room with bunk beds, cluttered with stuff and trash. I think of cleaning the room, but in fact, I’m comfortable. It feels easy to live in a squalor we all appreciate.

One of my roommates has tied an older man against a wall. The man is stripped to his underwear and blindfolded. I recognize that he’s a john. It seems unwise that my roommate is hustling on campus, in front of our roommates, with the door open to passersby. Still, no one seems to mind the scene or realize that it’s for pay. I hover nearby, ready to help if needed, and to act as a lookout. I want to keep this cool.

Suddenly, my roommate has pulled out his dick to urinate on the bound john, who revels in the stream of piss. That’s a step too far. I realize there are kids in the room, and I don’t want my brother to notice this. I suggest cleaning up by way of distraction. I find piles of Mardi Gras beads. I ask the kids to help me sort them by size and color, telling them they can keep whatever they like, or use them to decorate the room. The pissing scene goes unnoticed; I begin to pick up trash and pizza boxes.

Across campus is a daily outdoor performance of Jesus Christ Superstar. I’m familiar with the performance and sometimes step in an as extra. I arrive during the scene of the moneychangers in the temple. I watch for a bit then join in the chorus. There are many new students watching. I’m comfortable in this role, showing a cool thing about campus life. The song is catchy and I’m casual in my part. As the scene ends with Jesus screaming “Get out!,” I wander off, planning to return for the crucifixion. I return with a long piece of CVC pipe to use as a percussion instrument. I’m no longer in street clothes, but in a sheet fitted as a robe. It’s an informal nod to costuming. I decide to stand as a Roman guard. I’m casually drumming, unconcerned with the beat. I’m not really trying.

I’m watching the lead performer, who is also conductor, waiting to cue the chorus. I realize he’s waiting for air traffic to clear overhead. I look up. A plane passes. I ready as its noise fades, only to see other air vessels in the sky. One is a kind of hologram, a blimp trailing cartoon characters in the clouds. Everyone stands watching, entranced, with our performance on hold. I began to think I should take this role seriously. What would a Roman guard be thinking and feeling in this moment? I stand as if asleep on my feet, holding myself upright with my pipe, now used as a post. My eyes roll back in my head. My mind wanders back to the moneychangers theme.