by Lisa Jo
The dream is ending. The drama subsides. What do I do at the end of the show? The silence is deafening. I’m afraid to step outside of the theatre; it’s the only life I know. It’s dark, but it’s comfortable.
There – I’ve opened the door now… the sun is blinding me, and I can’t see a thing. Which direction do I walk? I’m disoriented. How long was I in there, watching that same play over and over again? I memorized the script, but each time the show began, I thought maybe the ending would be different this time, but it was always the same.
Finally, I woke up.
I’m standing here in the street now, aware of the crowds pushing around me, wanting me to pick a direction and move – but I am frozen here. I need time for my eyes to adjust to the daylight.
Blinking… blinking…
Unwritten 