Serpentine Dance (John Dotson’s dream of October 19, 2016)

I’m traveling with an ensemble. It seems we are in Paris, our bookings are nearly complete, and it is time to pack for our next destination, unknown. But we have one more performance.

We have been staying in a very old and timeworn multi-story pied–à–terre where we routinely stay and feel at home. There is much ado with the packing process, and things are rather chaotic. Suitcases, trunks, assorted musical instruments, props, costumes, laundry here and there, done and to do. In the midst of it all, I realize that I don’t know where my passport is—my archetypal phobia. However, I do know where I keep a photocopy, so I figure I have a back-up plan, though I dread the complication. I have to keep moving.

I am also thinking of our final production and trying to come up with a closing. Amidst all that is going on, this is my primary concern. Various phases in the closing sequence of the performance are clear. Some of the elements have already been configured. But I am searching for the overall pattern that will congeal with the finale.

With intense deliberation, the resolution appears to me: the forming of a serpent, comprised of several segments with movable joints, to be brought out and displayed in a dance with the leading lady.

This will do.