plumtreeblossom: (Mary Sue)
[personal profile] plumtreeblossom
My sleeping brain is a terrible place. Last night I dreamed an adventure for PMRP that I hope it will never have.

In my dream, some made-up person in PMRP considered it a dandy idea to invite a cohort of 7 or 8 of us to crash a cast party at the Longy School of Music. Now, I don't know anything about Longy School of Music (other than it's a real thing), but in my dream it was located far, far out in the furthest Boston exurbs, in a cathedral-like building full of scroll-y architecture and mysterious old doors. We arrived there at night in two pick-up trucks.

Crashing the cast party turned out to be a Very Bad Idea. Once it was known that interlopers from outside had tried to join the party, the singular goal of the Longy students was to chase us down and kill us with knives. Big knives. The PMRPers got split up as we ran every which way in terror, and I ended up cornered in an ante-chamber by a young man with a straight razor 4 times the size of a normal straight razor, backed up by his classic teen-slasher movie friends. He was preparing to gash off my nose and ears to start, and the last thought I remembered having was worrying that if my PMRP friends escaped with the two pickup trucks, I could be here for weeks or years as their torture toy.

Then I woke up.

I maybe should hold off writing any radio plays for a while.
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September 2017

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