DREAM
By Robin Raephe
CHARACTERS (for now)
Me (girl from real world)
Gregory House (character from House M.D., a fictional T.V. series from fictional world)
ACT 1
SETTING
In a desert with white grabble, sun setting, and you, House, on your beige chevy. I sitting beside you on your brown leather bound seats. We are both on a hill looking over Wilson's prairie house where he met his new fling, that we both dislike because we both know what that means: we may loose him altogether.
Scene 1 – ME, GREGORY HOUSE.
Me: (Not moving any part of me, absent minded) I miss you…
(My phrase falls gravely into the air. My throat hurts with pain. I swallow and you know I am sad.)
GREG HOUSE: (Answering in the same tone) I know.
(I look over at you, squinting for some emotion so that perhaps I might feel you through your own feeling. But you are as stoic I am.)
ME: You… I… I dreamed with you. You were here… I know Wilson is down there (I point to the house) and I know that house has a pool in it's backyard, surrounded by vined walls. I also can diagram the house. I was inside it in my dream. I see it as real.
(You inhale deeply filling your lungs, and you exhale in a freedom gesture making your muscles relax. You close your eyes. I can't bear you standing there so apart and content.)
ME: But you don't believe it.
GREG: No.
ME: (In a sad tone and prolonged) But you can.
GREG: But I can't know.
(Pause.)
GREG: (Laughs and looks directly at me piercing every word into my head) What do you know?
(I sit back and sink in the sun's cold warmth.)
ME: Make me believe… (said in a sigh)
GREG: You are starting already. (He sits back too, munchausing me.)
ME: Yes, but I don't want to believe because I wish so.
GREG: Oh c'mon, wake up!, Belief is defined by wishing!
ME: I doubt I have any more counter-arguments for you.
GREG: Well then, you are free (closing again your eyes, savouring your words) to believe.
(The sound of silence resonates thru the desert.)
ME: I miss the house. (I interrupt unsure, but I decide I must keep up, now that I've started this) I miss the house and Wilson; I miss the blue and green backyard. The weird and fun glam party we had in it. I even miss his girlfriend to which I have no recollection to put into a familiar face. I wish I could remember her…"
GREG: You can't. She's a archetype your mind came up with.
ME: Then I can't meet her…
GREG: Just like you can't meet me. (He mimics my sad voice sarcastically) Predictable… (I feel embarrassed). You can meet her if you think upon her and muse over her. Shell become as real as me and u standing here (you smirk at this), shell be as real as anything (I smile).
GREG: And as for the "missing" . I miss you too… but I don't complain.
(Surprise runs a shiver through my spine felt with the utmost delight against the fading sun.)
ME: You feel me?
GREG: We are… let's put it this way: mutual ghosts.
(I'm awestruck. Magically you are as real as the screen in front of me. It's as if for the first time I can feel you here, with me, "just like I dreamt". I am simultaneously before two worlds. Yours and this boring desk before me. Suddenly this isn't so dreadful and fetishist.)
ME: (Thinking) "Yes, this was what I was looking for. The bridge. The thing that touches two people apart from each other."
(I reach my hand to touch yours - I need to push reality through to the max. You quickly devise my movement and from me you draw your hand to fetch your orange bottle.)
GREG: Ah, ha, young lady, now that's far too much ambition… We are comfortably strangers to each other. (Short pause while reaching for something in pockets. Finds it. It's a orange pill bottle) I doubt I'll be needing these here (and you slash air with the tube as you through it off. I can hear it as sound as my Pentium hums)"
ME: Why cant I touch you? Everything is real enough to be felt…
GREG: Parallel world rules: no physic rules from crossed worlds fuse… Or something of the sort… (Your tone is evidently sarcastic)
(I think that sounds rather rational and it helps reality kick into this. But my scepticism is quicker than me.)
ME: But I hear you and see you. I need matter just like my own computers enable to do that. You have a flawed theory!
GREG: Please. What a train of thought easy to kill. You hear and see all this with your mind…
(Doubt clouds my mind)
ME: Do you too?
GREG: Yes.
ME: Now?
GREG: I'm answering back, aren't I?
ME: I could be making you answer back… (I say smartly).
GREG: Or I could be making you… (He answers decisively)
(I think "Touché, I am beaten". And I know that's true with utmost certainty.A rush of happiness invades me. It's the hugest gap and leap of faith ever taken. But it makes sense and we managed to make Physics fit unto our plan, reality wasn't that strong of an impression anyways, ideas are good enough.)
GREG: No. It isn't. And yes, they are.
ME: (Stating in a secure form I say) You're not from reality.
GREG: I own a computer and desk too (he sounds affected)
ME: Your match point (He takes a light bow.).
(With the utmost confidence I utter:, my voice deep and melodious, with a tinge of biblical.)
GREG: I missed you very much.
ME: I missed you in equal amount so touché again. (Cuts off my serious poetic mind resonance and I relax finally. I'm comfortable here with you.)
(Pause)
ME: I don't need to feel you to know you're there now.
GREG: (he smiles with genuine felicity) Then you're fully here. I needed you all along and you never figured it out though you had a hunch. Now it's clear and sharp as icy water. I like you better as a determined ghost that haunts my solitude into an easy feeling"
(I laugh and say nothing for a while. It is as if I'm running through his skinny rugged veins. I'm a Vicodin vibrant orange fairy...)
ME: Lets drive as wind down hill towards Wilson. I want to see his girlfriend. I don't know her. I couldn't see her face in my dream.
(He stares with enthusiasm in my eyes and smirks mischievously.)
GREG: You know, I haven't met her face yet. Teach me it. I want to trouble Wilson with her mannerisms and her features. And I need you for that. So yes, I thought you'd never ask. (And puts on vigorously his gear. The motors excitedly growls.)