…That Never Actually Happened
Some people dream about being a comedian, but last night I literally dreamt about being a stand-up comic. In my dream, I had an appointment for an audition to do a comedy routine. I’ve done plenty of poetry performances and although sometimes my poems take an ironic twist, which I deliver with a twinkle in my eye, I’ve never actually done comedy. So I was a bit apprehensive – especially since, unlike poetry, I would have to perform without being able to read my lines. The last time I tried that, it had been a complete disaster.
Back in 2006, I heard about a poetry slam competition at the La Paloma Theatre in Encinitas. Now, I had no idea what a poetry slam was, but there was a $100 prize so I figured I’d give it a shot. I brought a poem with me that I had recently written called More or Less. It’s still my favorite poem to perform because it’s funny and profound, but even though I’ve performed it dozens of times, I still need to read it – even just to have the security of being able to look at it in case I forget a line, because I’ll never get over the trauma of what happened that night.
When I got to the competition, I put my name in the hat and waited to be called. The theater was about half full and a dozen poets were called before me. I noticed that all of them recited their poems without notes and their delivery was lightning-fast! The person sitting next to me explained that the rules were that you couldn’t read your poem and you had only 3 minutes before you “got the hook”. Since I was there for that $100 prize, I spent the next few minutes trying to memorize my poem.
Because I’m hard of hearing, I didn’t hear my name when it was called until the person sitting next to me gave me an elbow in my ribs. I hurried up to the stage, looked out at the audience, and froze. I couldn’t even remember the first line! That has to go down in history as the worst case of stage fright that ever happened! At first, the audience was quiet and then the jeering began. I left the stage humiliated, vowing NEVER to do that again.
The following year, adding to my list of things I’ve done without thinking it through, I agreed to run for Congress. No one was going to run against the incumbent even though everyone I knew thought he was awful. Since I had a strong following at the time from a daily blog I was writing called CPR for Democracy, I decide to run.
Realizing that as a candidate I would have to get up and speak to people, often impromptu, I was delighted when a stranger offered his help as a public speaking coach. Once a week for several months, he would come to my home and we’d practice things like breathing, projection, enunciation, organizing, simplifying, and delivering my thoughts to an audience. What he taught me was priceless, not only during my campaign but later as an activist and performance poet.
So back to my dream – I thought to ask that speech coach guy for help in preparing for this comedy audition. The thing I remember about this guy is that he was a MAJOR pothead. I would see his car drive up 10 minutes before our appointment and he would sit there smoking a joint, which was illegal at the time even in California. And I was running for Congress! He would come in reeking of pot and when he left, my little home smelled like shit.
So, in my dream, he showed up smelling like pot but confident that he could teach me to deliver jokes. And the first thing he tells me is that all good comedians put their left hand behind their back when telling a joke. This was a dream, so my subconscious thought this advice was perfectly reasonable and I could recall other stand-up comics holding their hand behind their back.
When it was time for my audition, I got on the stage, put my left hand behind my back, and opened my mouth to tell my first joke. But nothing came out!
Actually, this is a common occurrence in dreams – not being able to speak. Maybe the brain cells making up the dream are not connected to our vocal cords. But I didn’t know this was a dream, so instead I concluded that being Italian, I couldn’t speak without using my hands. So I brought my hand in front and I could talk. I decided to make the fact that I needed my hands to speak my first joke. It got a good laugh and apparently, the rest of my routine went great. I wish I could remember those jokes.
When I was about to close, I remembered that the speech coach had said that you always end your act by tying your last joke to your first. So I said I now understood why comedians put their hands behind their backs and I put my left hand behind my back, and since I could no longer talk, I turned around so the audience could see that I was giving them the middle finger!
And they all thought that was hysterical. I woke up, remembering this ridiculous dream like it had actually happened.
