Dying to perform

I take a Xanax then another. First with a gulp of water that makes an impression on my Adam’s apple then with liquor. I squint my eyes and contort my face as my throat burns with the fire of undiluted spirits then I curl up in the position of the unborn on the chaos on my linen. I can hear my thunder heart beat in my head. It’s too loud, I need it to stop. How do I quiet my brains? I start thinking of how I’ll fail, how they will not see me. How they will see my translucence, laugh at my wetness and feed on my fear. I can’t do it, It’s impossible. 

Tick tock tick tock tick tock 

What’s that noise?! Is it time to go on stage? But it’s too quiet out there. Why isn’t anyone talking, shouting, booing? I can’t hear them, Is this the right stage? I should confirm behind the curtain. My legs won’t move, they feel like cement on the floor. Stop it!, I yell at them. There adamant, maybe it’s not my time yet. Maybe I wore the wrong shoes, stupid! Stupid! Stupid! I’ll change them but I might be late doing that. I’m failing, letting myself down again. 

Why are my membranes dry? My tongue feels like tree bark. I need more water. My insides are running and I’m bent over the toilet bowl. The churning in my stomach feels volcanic. The hollow bowl is too loud as my insides erupt. My skin is drenched. Maybe I’ll die before I have to go on stage. I lie on the floor, it’s cold and hard. I hear foot steps. Maybe they’ve come to get me. Someone is whistling, ‘ Oh when the saints Oh when the saints go marching in… ‘ I’m I dead?

Tick tock tick tock tick tock 

What’s that noise?! There’s something tugging on my hands. I can’t reach because my hands won’t move. My neck is stiff when I try to look down. Who’s doing that? I say. But my words are stuck in my throat. I can’t move. I hear a voice say, ‘ Are you okay?’ Another says, ‘He’s drunk.’ And another, ‘Looser.’ Then the last one, ‘ call an ambulance.’ I listen for the siren as I start practicing my piece. I have worked on it severally in the past months. In the mirror, I look awkward. In my head, I look awkward. How will I look on stage, maybe that space will shape me. 

Tick tock tick tock tick tock 

What’s that noise?! There are people moving. There was no siren. The lady in a paramedic uniform looks angelic. She shines a torch in my eyes, massages my chest and feels my forehead. ‘Sir? Sir? Can you hear me?’, she sings. She must be from the theatre. They’ve finally come to get me. There’s another one in uniform, soon my body is floating. I’m I flying? ‘Let’s take him to the emergency room.’ the angel said. No! I’m not sick. Your supposed to take me to the theatre!

All of a sudden my body is free, my legs are moving, I’m running. I’m outside and I see the signage on the building, ‘Brighton Elementary.’

I’m in the wrong building. What I’m I doing at my old school? I shouldn’t be here; this is where they laughed at me when I wet my pants on stage. I run and run past the lights colliding two bodies. I’m looking for the theatre. I can’t remember the directions. I feel for the paper with directions but I can’t find on my body. I’m going to be late. I have to find somebody who knows where it is. I look around. It’s dark, there’s nobody. Why is it dark? It’s morning already. Why isn’t there any traffic? 

Tick tock tick tock tick tock 

I’m searching for a sign that will lead me to the theatre. My act is in half an hour. I find a road sign, it’s written on something. I try to read it, it’s not in a language I understand. Why isn’t it in English? I’m I in the wrong country? They must be tricking me, they did that once. When they told me the auditions were on Saturday and we had to come to school in uniform. I remember this lost feeling. That morning at the bus stop. I waited and waited then ran to school so I couldn’t miss my act. The roads were empty that chilly morning. When I got to the school, the gates were closed. 

Tick tock tick tock tick tock 

They gave another kid my act because auditions happened on Friday when they said I should go home early and practice. Is that what is happening? Did the theatre give me the wrong date? Did they give me the wrong directions? I’m cursing and praying it’s not happening again. I can do this act, if I can find the theatre. Then I hear noise behind a rusted shop building with faded graffiti. Is somebody there? 'Who’s there? Hello?', I ask. Nothing. I move closer tracing the rattle. I feel heavy with expectation and fear. As I stretch my hand towards the half hinged door it opens almost hitting my perspiring face and stumbles me backwards. 

Tick tock tick tock tick tock 

Who’s there?! Then I hear movement. A small boy looking frightened and unkempt steps out. What is he doing here? Isn’t school on today? ‘Who are you?’ I ask. He doesn’t speak. He’s bent over. I ask again. He doesn’t look up. Then he points to the road on the left. I look but there’s nothing there. What does this mean? Then it hits me, is that the direction to the theatre? How does he know I’m looking for the theatre? As I start to run, I realize he’s wearing my old elementary school’s uniform. Why is he showing me the way to the theatre? I walk back to him and he’s looking at me now. I recognize him. He’s the bully who tricked me. Why is he still a child in uniform?  

Tick tock tick tock tick tock 

I don’t have time. I have to run. I’m running and running looking ahead for the theatre. I’m sweating and panting. I can see lights at a distance. Is that the theatre? Then the light is too bright on my eyes. I shield my face and hear a train and startled I stop. I look around, heart throbbing; I’m in my bed, I’m drenched, then the alarm goes off and I jump out of bed. It was a dream. I've got to get ready for my act.