Story Within a Story

There’s a children’s book being written, about which Disney will be producing a movie or one of their TV series. They are casting for the roles of three children at the center of the story, who are writing their own book in the book. Disney has decided that they will choose either all girls or all boys.

A group of child actors has shown up for the audition, and they are upset at hearing that Disney only wants a quick tape of each one showing a few facial expressions. They argue with the casting people, especially a teenage blond girl who insists that Disney should give the actors the opportunity to show them why they have what it takes for the role. The casting directors do not agree.

The actors are herded into a classroom where they will be read the storybook. One character in the book is a man who is sensitive about being asked about the experience that made him famous, being a castaway, because he feels like that’s all that defines him anymore, but the child authors want to hear about it. The reader in the dream shifts between being that character in the beginning and being me.

The actors are unruly during the reading. Halfway through, the reader takes a break as one of the casting directors chooses to highlight and explain one bit of the story, telling the actors what they’re looking for here. Then the director realizes that the reader isn’t around — in fact, the reader has gone across the parking lot to get a drink. The director doesn’t realize this, though, figuring the reader is at the bathroom or something, and starts singing “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot” to kill time. The reader somehow hears this and knows to come back. The director finishes the song, the actors mill about, and he consults with the other casting directors about where the reader went just as the reader walks in and heads straight for the front of the room again.

Now’s when the reader becomes more like a teacher disciplinarian. She yells for order, though her voice can barely be heard above the racket of chatting actors. When they do not come back to sit in a quiet and orderly way, she stops them, then demands they do it right over again, sitting as she calls them with hands folded and mouths quiet. She reminds them that the Disney people are watching and that they should be trying to impress them. Will the Disney people want to hire the actors if they see now that they can’t take direction?

The actors are a little too dramatic and self-centered performers, though, and while they might try to restrain themselves, most can’t manage it. Blond girl especially is still trying to protest through a hand in the air for a question when she should be ready to hear the reading, and one boy (reminiscent of an old students) can’t stop chatting, despite the looks of the Disney people reinforcing the reader.

After that, the dream starts to go crazy with actor kids running amok in a place reminiscent of Costco. I remember in particular one actor, the younger sister of the blond girl, using a copier on display to make hundreds of color copies of her head shot that she sent flying around the store.

I also dreamed a great deal of dangerous driving (these are the sort of frequent dreams that lead me to confuse dreams with memories and fuel my fears of car accidents stemming from difficult-to-control vehicles). There was a concert in one dream, I think featuring the Smashing Pumpkins. We left it halfway through to get drinks and snacks (maybe there was an intermission?) and had trouble getting back in — the people at the door insisted on seeing not just the tickets but also the stickers we had been given on the way in as proof that these were our tickets. I had left my sticker in the car, thinking it was unimportant, but a companion managed to come up with a second one so I could go in.

There was also some point in my dreams that involved going to a convenience store that offered a wide variety of Icees (Slurpees, to those of you who grew up in 7-Eleven territory). My little brother Zach was with me. He tried one mystery flavor, and I tried another. They were both pretty tasty, though I can’t remember now what the flavors turned out to be.

Overall, it was a seriously active night in my head.