I dreamed of a production of Angel, a musical which seemed to be a cross between jesus christ superstar and dogma and the best christmas pageant ever. At first it was a big time production and I was watching: a chorus of singers in front of a christmas tree, mostly male, some retarded. Cut to a scene in a bedroom. Judas appears at all four corners of a four poster bed. the startled inhabitant, perhaps the devil, gets over it and multiplies himself by four as well. They stare at each other, a face-off. Cut. I am in a loft apartment where some friends live. Ivar and Tove and Jeremy. Jeremy has bright yellow dishes, some of them get broken when we/he accidentally/not tip them off the fence at the back, in to the lane which happens to be East Hastings Street. I warn joe against playing with the broken glass: this is hastings street, and half of it is liable to be contaminated with used syringes and cat pee. There's a couch on the first floor. People have left three toothbrush caddies and accompanying teethbreesh there. On the top floor, I go to the kitchen. Tove drives out in a small green car that wouldn't have fit in the kitchen. "Ha HA!" I laugh. "How did you manage that?" "Oh, native talent!" She winks and continues driving, turning right and heading downstairs. We're all back on the main floor, practicing a song from Angel: Aeon Fear. The tenors don't quite hit it, but I felt confident that I've learned my part: an alto with a side role as Swedish Girl #1. Cut. I'm in the auditorium of my old high school. The set looks like the set for A Chorus Line: black and plain. There are a few risers at the edge of the stage for singers. Mr. Burger is directing. There's a lengthy kafuffle on stage about where should my bags go. The scene starts out with my character falling off stage, being knocked unconscious, and babbling in pseudo-swedish when someone comes to help. "I don't want to fall off stage!" I say, looking down the four foot drop in apprehension. It's okay, I just have to jump stealthily, and no one will look over until they hear me moan. We go through the scene. I don't speak in a swedish accent as indicated in the script, but my improvised lines seem to meet the director's approval. Back on stage, readying to practice songs. Stephen Price (not vincent price!) appears out of nowhere! That's okay. He's in the section ahead of me. His hair wavers from short to long to his normal grade nine style. We discuss the script and agree that Aeon Fears is probably the only good song. He can't make it to the final performance, but he loves singing so much he's going to attend all the practices. It's unclear whether there's an understudy for his role in training. We start the scene again. Wait! Stop everything! Mr. Burger has sneakily added an iron railing to the risers. It's now six feet tall - no way am I jumping. Steve offers to jump instead. I briefly consider the physics of me picking him up and throwing him (apparently I don't think he can jump on his own?) and decide to complain to Mr. Burger instead of accepting his offer. Besides, he doesn't look swedish. (And I do?)

As I wake up, I'm vaguely convinced that I've gone back in time to when I was 13 in grade eight, but with my current memories. I wonder briefly whether going to visit the grade-eight version of my boyfriend would be fun, or whether it would just really really creep him out.