Mom visited me (down from Olympia Washington) for her 69th birthday. Together, we visited her childhood home in Portland (on Gladstone Street) and her next home, my childhood home in Gladstone (near Portland Avenue).
Amazingly enough, without any advance notice, the current residents of both homes let us come in for a quick tour, to see what had changed. It was weird... I hadn't been in either home as an adult. Everything seemed so small!
Afterwards, we stopped at TeBo's in Gladstone for their famous Strawberry Shortcake.
Happy birthday, mom!
I had a dream a few nights ago.
I don't remember most of my dreams, so this one stuck out, because I remembered it. Maybe it was also because I woke up "in the middle" of this part of the dream, but I can't tell.
I don't remember the exact means by which I ended up in the situation, but somehow, I was backstage of a large performance hall. One of those halls that has the stage in the center, surrounded by 20,000 fans—I think they call that "theatre in the round" style. I was probably remembering a recent Dane Cook comedy bit from HBO, actually.
The evening was a series of comedians or inspirational speakers... I wasn't sure which. Four or five, each with 45 minute slots. I had some role backstage... maybe technical, maybe just gopher, not sure.
But somehow, there'd been a mixup. At the last minute, one of the presenters in the middle slot couldn't go on. I don't recall whether they were tied up, or confused or what. But they weren't there.
The director of the event came over to me, looked me straight in the eye, and said "are you ready? you've done presentations in front of large crowds, right? I need a replacement. You have 90 seconds... get ready."
As a professional presenter, I can assure you, this is about as far from ideal as I would want. No preparation, no rehearsal, needing to fill a 45-minute slot with material for an audience that hadn't been fully analyzed, except that they were all (what's the common element?)... uh, human. Oh great, I thought, quickly noting that my usual technical jokes would fall on flat ears.
But here's the interesting part of this dream. I went through about a minute of terror, about 30 seconds of controlled breathing ("inhale ... one ... two.... exhale... three... four"), and then a great sense of calm... at peace. I found a place where I could trust myself to say whatever the audience needed me to say to be in rapport with them, without any specific idea of what I would say.
I donned the wireless Countryman headset, did a quick soundcheck, and walked out into the lights, onto the stage.
"Ladies and Gentleman... what I'm about to say might make many of you get up out of your seats and leave for the next 45 minutes, but bear with me, hear me out... I have something to say that might just surprise you..."
And nobody moved. The room got quiet.
And I remember an ear-to-ear grin. I had this crowd of 20k in my hand. And I knew that whatever I did for the next 45 minutes, they would talk about, twitter about, blog about, debate about, and meditate about for the next week or two. Or maybe forever.
It was just then... I woke up.
So what did I say? What did I talk about?
And could I have done that in real life?
One wonders.
