What happens to a dream deferred? It may not shrivel up, like a raisin in the sun, as Langston Hughes said. I have a different idea about it.
Today I sat in the theatre, and I watched the king of Siam and Anna dance in The king and I. He twirled her around, and inside there was longing in me. To be up there. To be part of that magic. It reminded me of when I was a little girl, and I saw the Phantom of the Opera for the first time. I saw Christine, up on stage, and I thought, that could be me.
It was me, once. Not as Christine or Anna, but as Roxanne in a middle school abridged version of Cyrano de Bergerac. It was me as Lady Bracknell in The Importance of Being Earnest. It was me being apart of something magical, even if I knew that what was going on in rehearsals was nothing but magical. But for that one moment in time, I was on stage, and i swear it was real, I was alive, I created a universe in the palm of my hand, and it was perfect.
But something happened in high school when I realized that I wasn’t that certain archetype that could be Christine, or Lady Macbeth, or really anyone except for the side character. Never the lead. Never the girl that found love. Something happened when I was in college, and got told no, again and again and again. Even for that side character. I used to hate to get type casted, now I wanted more than anything to be typecasted. At least I could create that magic again, and that would have been better than nothing.
Then it turned into: Well, as long as you are involved in theatre. Acting wasn’t important, I told myself as I buried myself in directing and dramaturgy. I could do this instead I said, even as I still dreamed of being Lady Macbeth, or Christine, or anyone. I was telling myself a lie. I needed to be up there. It needed to be me, becoming that character. I fooled myself for a while, and my dream shrivled up. It became the raisin in the sun.
Something then happened when I finished my theatre degree, and theatre wasn’t in my everyday life anymore. I realized I didn’t need it. I realized I wasn’t an actress. The dream deferred was the dream no longer needed. I thought.
Today though, I sat and I saw The King and I, and I wanted to be Anna on the stage with the king of Siam. Going to a theatre production had long since lost its magic, (I knew what went on behind the scenes) but for that moment that they danced, everything was real, and I wanted. I wanted to be an actress again. I wished my dream hadn’t been deferred. But I realized, and now I know. It wasn’t. It never was.
Because I am an actress. I may no longer be an actress who goes on stage and tells stories on the stage, but that doesn’t mean I’m not an actress who takes a pen, and tells stories with her words. That thing I did most of my life, along with acting...the writing? Well, when I wrote my stories, and my characters: my Soleil, my Evelyn, and my Rowan, I was on stage. A different stage, but a stage. I wrote their words and for a moment, everything was real. I was Soleil, going on a journey. I was Evelyn, realizing she wasn’t alone. I was Rowan, losing the love of his life. Just as easy as I was Roxanne, or Lady Bracknell. I wrote their words and I created a universe in the palm of my hand. Wanting to be an actress, it wasn’t a dream deferred. It was a dream that changed. A dream that was always there.
