It was rehearsal for Full Circle. Only the baby wasn't a baby, it was a big balloon full of liquid cocaine. (again with the balloons, I know. I always have these dreams right before I wake up, when I haven't peed in over eight hours, and K is taking his shower.) Sometimes the director was our artistic director, sometimes it was Ms. Bennett, my theater teacher from my senior year of high school. All of a sudden, it stopped being a rehearsal. All of a sudden we all realized that the baby was not a baby, that it was a big balloon full of liquid cocaine, and that there were sirens outside. People rushed the stage, trying to get the ballon. They began to tear it apart, and the liquid cocaine gushed all over the floor. I started to cry, because I knew there was no way in the world we could afford to replace all that cocaine in time for opening night.
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