Dreaming of 'Hamilton'
I'll see you in my dreams. Or not.
Last night I dreamed that “Hamilton” was touring and playing in Minneapolis, so P and I visited to see it. We hooked up with my old college roommate and his wife, who knew less about the musical but were game, for drinks and a nosh before the show.
The theater was crowded and kind of chaotic, and it was more like a movie theater in that the afternoon show was leaving as we were arriving. I ran into an old bookstore friend, who was dressed in some odd outfit (he'd always been odd), and he told me it was an OK production but the touring Alexander Hamilton wasn't great. My friend was disappointed. I kept thinking, “Don't tell me this. I don't want to know this.” It felt like spoilers.
Above the theater was a hotel, which is where we were staying, and I was in our room, fixing a drink, and thinking of watching it all on TV, when I began to hear the opening strains of the overture from below. And I'm like, “Wait. TV??? We came all this way to see the play. I need to be down there.” But then I had to go to the bathroom, and then I couldn't find the key to our hotel room, and then I couldn't fit the key into the door. The hallway was crowded and people were watching, and I seemed to be bending the key out of shape to try to get it to work. (Freudians, have at.)
One of those awful anxiety dreams. Dreaming like I'm running out of time.
I had another “Hamilton” dream about a month ago. In that one, Lin-Manuel Miranda himself gave me tix to the Broadway show. P and I were already in New York, and the tix were for six days in the future—on the other side of the New Year—so we had to rearrange our schedules to make it all work. That, too, became an anxiety dream about where to stay, where was our stuff, etc.
In neither dream did I see the musical. So even in my dreams I don't get to see “Hamilton.”