In which Blair revolves and ruminates his grief

This play has plagued my mind for the last week. I have dreamt about it or its cast members at least once a night for at least the last seven days. I can’t really remember when the dreams began and I’m not quite sure they’ll ever end. Here is a brief summary of the events of the most recent ones (dates may be fictionalised for dramatic effect);

Thursday: In which Salesi and I are at the dairy in Hataitai, witness an assault and are then chased back to his house (near the bus tunnel in Hataitai, up a fictional giant hill) by the very same rogues that perpetrated the assault. On arrival I wonder at what point I’m going to meet Gareth Farr but never ever do.

Saturday: In which I realise I have like two more huge scenes to learn a week before the play begins. Stretching my memory, one of the scenes was, I think, where Suffolk is on the ship returning to England (possibly repeating Margaret’s semblances often on the seas that when he comest to kneel at Henry’s feet he may bereave him of his wits with wonder).

Sunday: In which I forget all of my lines. Oh wait, that wasn’t a dream. Here is the real one;

In which Louise is at my Merry Wives of Windsor audition, watching, judging. This dream also included me going home and cleaning my room entirely in five seconds. Would it were real life. I wake up excited that my room is clean and am struck by grim reality.

Monday: In which Emma regales us (on the blog, possibly in video documentary format) with tales of how she nearly couldn’t be in the play and how upset she was at the prospect of not getting to play Basset.

Tuesday: In which Salesi just won’t stop hitting on me. Seriously, man, I’m dream-flattered, but dream-stop it.

There were probably also like twenty dreams in which I’m in a car with Tom in the passenger seat with it pushed as far forward as it can go while he tries, to no avail, to find a comfortable place to put his head. Damn you, infernal pipes.

What does this all mean? Why didn’t I have a dream in which Tom was Luigi and I was Mario, cruising the pipes and destroying Koopa Troopers while attempting to save a Princess? Which cast member would have been the Princess in that case?

So this is my last chance to write anything about the play on the blog, really. I like this blog. Even though it is somewhat underused, I think that if I came across something likes this for a play that I wasn’t in I would be greatly interested. But I’m kind of weird and into other peoples’ personal lives like that.

One of the things that this play makes me realise is how awesome Henry V is both as a play and a character. In this play, we see the world’s worst King try to live up to the name of his father. Throughout those court scenes I am constantly thinking “If Henry V were here this would not be an issue” and imagining the way that he would deal with situations, were he here. It also makes me think about what a morale boost having the King in those battle scenes was. How great is it that the King of England actually fought the leader of the French army one-on-one? Imagine Henry VI in a battle! He’d be slaughtered by Alice yelling “A Talbot!”

I’ve greatly enjoyed this play. Once again, I’ve secretly killed someone and gained a far bigger role (can you believe my original part in Henry V was solely to humbly on my knee beg the leading of the vaward? Yes? You can?) and I’ve had a far better time and even learned a thing or two about acting. Oddly enough, despite enjoying it more, I’m less upset about it all ending this time around. Anyway, I’ll cry on all your shoulders about how much I’m going to miss working with you tonight. For now, I must get out of bed and go to my final 204 performance.

I apologise for the giant post but I am hoping you’ll all miss the play enough tomorrow morning that you’ll be hugely interested in perceiving my mind. Wait- why haven’t I been writing my ENGL 208 essay for which I’ve had to get special permission to hand in after the end of term instead of writing an 800 word blog post? Let’s hope Geoff Miles doesn’t see this.