Winter hibernation has set in. I've basically been asleep most of the weekend. This was my dream from yesterday.
I was in a big school hall, it was like a cross between Parkside and Scout Hall Up, because I knew I was there for a GSA reunion but for work. The teacher told Angus and I that we would do a scene for the people there, it would be an hour long and there was no theme, just completely improvised in the space. I liked the idea of this.
There were benches and bales of hay round in a circle and there were all sorts of people including school groups with ten-year-old kids. The lights went down and I sat at the back outside the circle. I knew I was working with Angus, but I didn't know where he was and what we would do next. As I sat, I felt myself relaxing into a sleepy trance and when I woke from that I knew I was ready. I walked over to the light switches. I realised that I was just in my underpants. This was fine, I didn't feel at all vulnerable, actually much stronger, although my body was my current 53-year-old flabby model.
On the way to the lights I walked past a couple of school teachers having a conversation. They had no idea that the performance had begun and so they were chatting about whatever was important to them.
I put the lights on and walked into the circle. Again, people didn't understand that the performance was already underway. One teacher was getting his group to walk around and change places with each other in a very complicated kind of walking dance. I walked past them to the head of the circle, which I knew to be the north side. I could see a shower attached to the wall although I knew it wasn't there and the audience, even if they were paying attention, couldn't see it. I got that it was that strength of visualisation that would make my mime of taking a shower work. So I stepped into it and started washing myself exactly as I normally do. No extravagant "I'm having a shower" business, because for me I really was just in the shower. I paid more attention than usual to washing my feet and toes.
Then Jim Broadbent cycled through the circle and was saying "Lloyd! really?! There's kids and women here" and I was quite calm and said "Jim, it's just mime, I've still got my pants on."
I still knew that I was half in the circle, half in the scene, it kept appearing around me. I realised that Jim had been cycling down the road and I was talking to him through an open window of an upstairs room. I looked out, the schoolkids were now muslim women standing at the bus stop at the end of Kings Road by Beaufort Street. I leant out of the window to look and said "Oh, it's the Kings Road, I fucking hate the Kings Road", but I felt inside "I fucking love the Kings Road". and I was filled with the joy and excitement that I felt the first time I remember walking down there sometime in the eighties. And I started walking along the road towards Sloane Square and said out loud "I fucking love the King's Road!"
And the overwhelming strength of the love and enjoyment and excitement woke me up.
