Grazie, Eminenza

I sleep heavily in the country, and I am a poor dreamer--that is, I don't often have dreams that I remember, let alone that are amusing or vivid when I wake.

Last night, though, after a seafood feast with La Caterina and one of her sisters, I had a doozy.

I dreamed that I was asleep, and woken by music. Live music. I came to myself, at a gala where bishops and archbishops were walking past me, and a kindly Cardinal, clearly seeing I was at the right event (I was casually dressed; the lay people were in evening dress) extended a hand, beckoned me to a seat next to him, where, among a panoply of Roman Catholic dignitaries, including Pope Francis, I watched a performance of, of all things, Chess.

Somehow or other, I came adrift from my friend the Cardinal (Leo McKern, in Shoes of the Fisherman, I believe), and ended up in quiet area, where I resumed sleeping.

Until the lights came on, and actors moved in for the second act. One of them signaled me to move, before the big second act number got started.



I left, covering my inappropriate presence with a comic bit of business, and got a good laugh. Several actors thought I was a directorial innovation, and congratulated me offstage.

And the band played on, as I resumed my seat with Cardinal Leone.

Just in time for the Endgame.



Seafood. Drags up the damnedest things from the subconscious. And too much musical theater in my youth, clearly.

(Pope Francis couldn't have been kinder, by the way, and Cardinal Leone was excellent company. And I clearly need therapy.)