Golden Retriever

Last night I had two dreams:

The first was a sort of run-of-the-mill teaching anxiety dream, in which I didn't have enough exams, then I couldn't run the photocopier to make more, then class ended before I had given the exam, etc.

The second was infinitely more surreal. I dreamed that I was at a play, sitting in the balcony. The play was rather dark and creepy; one scene involved the characters onstage discussing in detail the ways in which a spider kills and eats its prey. It was meant to be a metaphor, see? Anyway, amongst all this creepy darkness, one of the main characters was a golden retriever. His trainer was sitting in the front row wearing a red jacket and giving the dog hand signals. At one point during the play, the dog got to have what I can best describe as a "solo," in which the trainer put him through all of his moves, completely independent of the play's plot. Just like at the end of a jazz solo, the audience gave the dog (and, presumably, his trainer) a round of applause. Then the show went on.