#theater gothic

The buildings are old and need constant repairs, so something is always under construction. Despite this, you have never seen anyone working on the roped off parts of the buildings. They simply shut down for a month and then re-open, fixed. Odd.

The movement teacher won’t stop talking about “The Work.” There is no clear definition, but it involves The Self and also The Body.

No one sleeps. At all. Not the professors, not the students, not the administrative team, and definitely not the resident company members. Your chances of passing someone in the hall are the same at 4 AM as they are at 2 PM.

Someone says the word “Macbeth” and the room goes dead quiet. The whole floor goes dead quiet. You don’t hear a word spoken in the whole building for the rest of the day. The offender isn’t in class the next day, or the day after that. Eventually, you forget their name.

During midterm week, you dream fitfully about “The Work.” You wake up in a cold sweat, almost certain that you’ll figure out what it is next time.

Your movement final is to “encounter yourself.” You don’t know what this means, but now you keep catching glimpses of yourself in crowds of people. The date of your final draws nearer. You don’t know what you’re going to turn in. Your reflection in the mirror has started lagging a bit. You get the feeling you will be encountering yourself very soon.

“The Work,” says a man on the subway. You clench your hands in your pockets. You have to stay on alert.

The alumni list is long and lofty. The teachers refer to it constantly. “This could be you, right?” You run into one of the alumni on your way downtown. Their eyes are empty. They will not look at you.

You sit down to watch a company show. You come to an hour and a half later during the bows, program still in hand. Everyone else agrees it was a brilliant show. You are not sure what happened to you during it. You may never be sure.