Fever Dream

Let me paint you a picture.

It's a Friday night and 23 theatre kids trickle into Woodmar theatre dressed in an array of 80s clothing, from neon bodysuits to 'authentic period' sneakers and sweatshirts. 

It is the night of the 80s dance at George Fox University. Student activities members hang slinkies and disco balls from the ceiling of the EHS atrium while actors fill up water bottles and stretch. 

In addition to it being the 80s dance, it is a choreography rehearsal for Oliver! The Musical on the third floor of EHS/Woodmar. And the cast is amping up for the night of dancing and singing "Oom Pa Pa"...(if you don't know the song already, look it up and you'll understand the hype). 

The first hour of rehearsal is mostly normal, other than the occasional sound from the hall as the dj sets up. 

On our first break, actors sprint downstairs to get water and take a photo in our 80s jazzercise outfits before the hordes of students rush in to dance the night away. 

There is a buzzing energy about the building. Lines of people wait outside to get their free glittery fanny packs and cram under a disco ball for 2 hours. 

But we are free inside the building. We run past cords and ladders to snap our photo and then rush up the back stairs to the theatre ... Back to our safe place, away from the massive event about to occur. 

As we run up the stairs we start to chant and sing "OOM PA PA!!" with a kind of rare energy and camaraderie that is amplified with each step. 

But then...

8 o'clock strikes. 

Music pounds from the DJs speakers through the walls of Woodmar and thunders through the room. 

It becomes "nutso buttso."

A fever dream unlike anything I've experienced before in my life. 

Our boss of a choreographer pressed forward, teaching us step by step, move by move, despite the pounding of the music and the screams of the audience. 

The beat rides through the room and actors flit from line dancing in the corner to "Foot Loose" to waltzing across the room and raising fake beer mugs.

People tap their feet. 

Heads nod. 

Some feel the music more eccentrically. They can not help but MOVE. Body rolls and every kind of dance move appear in modifications as actors wait for their instruction in the song. 

All the while screams wail in the hall and the music somehow beats louder. 

And then ... the director calls break. 

And with a rush of madness and joy the majority of us burst out the double doors onto the bridge of the atrium and GO BANANAS. 

It is humid and smells rancid. 

You can feel the flesh of hundreds of bodies in the air. And smell the stink and sweat. 

Luckily, there aren't too many of us on the bridge. We have room to MOVE. 

In direct contrast, bodies cram together downstairs under the lights and smoke and attempt to dance whilst having no room. 

The air is sticky and hot. 

Sweat permeates every part of the building. 

But there is a raging energy as we bounce and dance. 

With laughter we start doing our choreography to the music (which is very much nothing like the music the choreo belongs to). And we shout "3 minutes" and "thank you 3 minutes" in a code of our own over the music. 

And with 2 minutes left of break we rush back in the theater, and drink some water to refuel before we attempt to devote our minds to a focused learning of movement. 

The lovely Danielle pushes forward to play music despite what's happening outside, and in the last 2 minutes of rehearsal we run the whole song. 

And it is glorious.

A celebration of hard work and focus in the midst of chaos. 

It is so delightful. 

And I think it is the proudest we have all felt of a piece because of the chaos fighting against our progress.

We made something. Even when "I Wanna Dance With Somebody" made us lose our minds in our own dance parties in our own little worlds in our own little corners of the stage. 

And then it's 10 o'clock, and as quickly as it came, the dance ended. 

The stink and humidity lingered thickly in the halls, but the mass of people and the never ending pounding and "whooping" sounds disappeared. 

Now, I'm sitting in the theatre. I have been released but I am writing this as I listen to a few of my peers work on a scene. 

 I can breathe differently. Deeper. 

It is more quiet. And relaxed. 

My body is finally experiencing a break. 

And I'm able to take in the beauty of a simple theater with hard working, loving people creating a beautiful story. 

Isn't that so how life is though? 

There are brief moments of intense music and dancing and celebration. And some moments of utter chaos. 

But ultimately, we need rest. And it is in the simple moments that I often find more beauty and breath. 

The 10 minute dance parties during break or in the rehearsal room while waiting for instruction were FUN...but sitting in the quiet theater with the music of the rehearsal piano and voices of my sweet friends is infinitely more gratifying and full of simplistic peace.

Sincerely, 

Sophi