“I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was.”
As they enter the woods outside of Athens, the characters of A Midsummer Night’s Dream begin to experience events so strange that they become unsure of what is reality and what is merely dreaming, and the experience has long-lasting effects on them even after they leave the forest.
As we prepare for our upcoming production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, we asked members of the Villanova Theatre community to share some of their dreams — from the silly to the surreal. Enjoy this sampling of what our community has to offer, and come back next week for even more dreamtelling!
Meg Jones, second-year grad student
I had a nightmare that my brother and I were trapped in a house and all the furniture was moving around by itself (imagine Jamiroquai’s “Virtual Insanity” video, but with a lot more furniture). There was a song playing, some Broadway-sounding hit but I can’t remember what it was. But it kept getting louder and louder and we both somehow knew that when the song ended, the house would explode. With all of the furniture moving, we couldn’t get out of the front door, but I saw a side door out. My brother was too far away to grab him and it was too loud for him to hear me calling his name. So I ran out the open side door with the intention of running back through the front door and trying to pull him out. But while I was running around the side of the house, it exploded with him inside and I jumped awake really upset.
I texted him that morning but not about the dream. I don’t know what my subconscious was trying to tell me but that was awful.
Matthew Reddin, first-year graduate student
A couple weeks back, I remember having this bizarre dream where I was at an old-fashioned roller skating rink, watching a disco-themed roller skate performance. And that wasn’t even the weirdest part. The weirdest part was when I left the roller rink and immediately became Bobby Cannavale in a movie — not Bobby Cannavale acting for a movie, the actual movie. (This distinction was apparently very important to my dream brain.)
The dream didn’t last much longer, but before I woke up I distinctly remember my Bobby Cannavale self’s goal was to convince a mob boss’s son (played by Matt Damon, because sure, why not) to fall in love with me through the power of karaoke. The thing I still can’t figure out? The movie was called ‘Orange,’ and I never found out why. Thanks for whatever that was, subconscious.
Effie Kammer, second-year graduate student
I had a dream the other day that I remembered like this: My dream was about a woman who had to leave her family because she wasn’t equipped— she was tragically saying goodbye to the child, saying, “I can’t do this” and the child saying, “I know, Mom.” She was working class, doing the dishes in a yellowing kitchen with dirt of ages and no way to reach it, the child drawing round clouds in blue waxy crayon. The mother told the stout little girl child, clammy hands, hair glued to her face with sweat, “Remember me. Remember who I was to you. Don’t let it all be about this ending here and the dense ambivalent clouds.”
The next scene, the mother was in some place where all women are free, strong, restored—running fast through tall grasses, lounging in bright green fields, and basking in the diffuse radiance of the day. “What heaven is this?” she asked.