Clown Dreams

Last night I had another circus dream. Most of my circus dreams are Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder induced, and are part of my post-circus healing process, I believe. Last night's dream was actually rather positive, so it must be working, in a strange way.

In my dream I went to see the circus. One act in the show involved Bello Nock, (America's Clown), rapelling down the outside of the Mississppi State Fairground Colisseum on a rapidly thinning rope. Well, in this dream, I left my mom sitting in the audience (section E, to be exact) and went to join him as an audience volunteer. I was, as a non-rapeller and non-clown, quite nervous about my role in the act. But Bello patiently taught me to be an acrobat and FUNNY at the same time. I was successful. I was good. I was FUNNY. We finally reached the ground and went back inside to take our bow.

Then it was time for the show to move to Salt Lake, so Bello and I, now great friends and co-performers, decided to just walk over. So I packed up my little rolling clown-suitcase and we headed for the Salt Palace. As we were walking, I was joking with Bello, since I suddenly felt confident in my humor, even though I was with America's Clown. I said to him, "well now I want a T-shirt that says 'I did it with Bello!!'". Now THAT'S funny! Then we got to the hotels (he was at the Red Lion and I at the Shiloh Inn), but since it was during the annual Sniagrab sale, we had to wait for the multitudes of teenage snowboard kids to check out of the hotel. We sat outside on a bench and I helped him put sunless tanner on his feet so that he wouldn't have awkward orange lines.

A clown. Worried about orange feet.

That is a true, true dream that I had.

I need serious help.