anamnesiac

Standing backstage, I realize that I am dressed in a fat suit with a pig nose, wearing a Roman helmet and carrying a plastic sword. I am about to have to go onstage, and I do not know my lines.

I take a deep breath and adjust the balloon under my shirt that should pop when I am killed, but then I realize that I don’t know where the pin is that I should use to pop it.

At that moment, a group of actors come offstage mumbling something about being soldiers. One of them trips and the others fall over him. I pick up my fake bone and walk onstage with no idea what I am about to say.

A horrifying, cold-sweat, theater nightmare?

No. 8:15pm – earlier this evening.

I am in a hell of my own creation.