Pretty much half my mental energy is being used to solve problems within my thesis play, and the other half is pretty content irrationally freaking out that I'll never be able to solve any of them/my work will be a complete and utter disaster/disappointment to everyone ever.
Last night I dreamt it was auditions, my director was using sides from an old play about covered wagons. He told me none of my pages were good enough.
My dad and sister picked me up and drove me to summer camp. They were being really nice to me. Too nice? When we arrived, it wasn't camp at all. It was an insane asylum.
Then I was in the house I grew up in. I knew it was a mistake. Because I somehow knew the landlord was going to trap me. My roommates were some shrimpy kid I had never met and Huntie. Huntie sang a song about his ex-girlfriend that was so sad and beautiful I cried for hours. Sitch was there visiting. He lifted up his shirt an exposed hundreds of cuts on his stomach. He told me he did them himself, and before I could console him, our landlord found us. He was also my professor. I tried to talk to him about class, but he told me what I had hunched. The house was being turned into a concentration camp, and I was enslaved forever. I ran to the basement, but there was no escape. I tried to text Bisque goodbye with a blue emoji heart. There wasn't enough reception for it to send.