The Recurring Audition Dream : Sharon Osborune Musical Theatre in a POOL?

I've had this really strange, recurring dream for the past few months.  Well [as I sit here, literally waking up via massive cup of coffee], recurring... i.e., had it twice.  Which is enough to inspire a quizzical ponder-session, if you ask me, as it very much relates to career and acting.

The dream always begins with me... as I am now, not a gigantic flamingo or something... desperately wanting to nab a role in a certain musical theater production.  When I go into audition for it, I realize that the two producers -- who are twins -- are my former webdesign clients.  They bow to me [as they're not only near paternal doubles but also Japanese], and tell me that the role is almost a lock, but I must sing for the director.

What ensues next can only be described as a overly-exhausted actor's horror dream post flying home to visit family after extremely stressful audition week prior;  I'm launched into a REALITY SHOW type competition with seven other chicks, that all look like they should be on that insanely odd new Sharon Osborne series.  And we have to compete not only with our vocal chords, but for the affections of four other men. 

I, in my post-ballroom-dancing ballerina hairbun, am prim and proper throughout the entire thing, waiting it out until I get to sing my freakin' 32 bars and get the hell out of there.  I silently despise the bat-shit-crazy women that dote over the muscleboys.  Finally, I go to the bathroom and remove the hairpins -- which [in my dream] takes about an hour.  By the time I come out, the other "contestants" are already auditioning!

With somewhat wet hair [oh, because this entire odd dream takes place in and around a huge SWIMMING POOL], I race back to the audition site.  There, I'm told to kill a huge Men in Black style alien marine animal, using an oversized shower head as a club.  When I refuse, the producers shake their heads.

Finally, I go to the edge of the pool and sing my 32 bars [sans accompanist].  I practically force the energy out of me and try to give my best audition possible, all factors considered.  I finish, and the producers are looking at me, stone still.

A week goes by.  I'm no longer at the pool, but somewhere I can't remember.  The idiot Osbourne chicks and A&F guys have dissolved back into my consciousness.  I actually wake up, briefly, to check my phone and then fall back into sleep-and-oddball-dream-sequence.  I'm told by the Japanese twins that I did not "display enough energy", and they were very disappointed in me that I didn't secure the role.

"But did I sing well, at least?" I asked.

"It doesn't matter.  You didn't display any energy, Ashley".

Display any energy?!  This is said to the chick who [again, OUT OF DREAM] drinks huge cups of coffee and has a fondness for all things caffeine.  Her favorite soccer team are the New York RedBulls, for goodness sake, and she doesn't even watch soccer!

So there it is.  Twice, now, with this bizarre reality style audition-by-pool generated by my former Japanese twin webdesign clients.  And I "don't display enough energy".  I remember wondering, at the tail-end of the dream, if it was because I'd be just as happy in a cabin in North Carolina writing novels, anyway.  

Odd... potentially full of signs... and I might potentially just be mad-hatter crazy.

Coffee musings over Florida Gulf staring, Ashley Avis