http://polaroid41.com/daydream/
Sunday, February 28th, 2021 - 12:17pm.
I just had the joy and privilege of spending two weeks at La Verrerie in Alès working on a new show.  Workshopping a project I love, with creative people, in a beautiful space is always amazing, but in the midst of Covid it was priceless. Life-affirming.
They were our first two weeks together, and in preparation I dug out my big folder from the creative process on a related show that preceded this one.  Tucked inside the folder among the many papers, I found two notebooks. I opened the red one first and marveled at the date: February 29th, 2016 - almost exactly 5 years ago.  This was a show that went up in London, so the first pages are full of notes from group Skype calls, packing lists, notes for the multimedia installation we were building alongside the show. About 10 pages in, the notes from the rehearsal process start. On page 20 there’s a writing exercise that the director, Matilda, suggested: a sort of free write daydream about a moment 5 years in the future - what do we see below, above, behind, in front of us, where are we, what do we hear, etc.
At the time, I remember being surprised by what I wrote.  The daydream starts with me driving a car, something I didn’t know I wanted, or even felt able to do.  In the scene I describe myself driving up to our cabin, including details about the picnic and groceries I have loaded into the car, about Elliot playing with the neighbor’s child and how we’re friends with the parents, about going on a hike together, and how we should ‘play that one game again because we laughed so hard last time.’  I also mention a swimming pool and a very lush garden, haha.
So here I am in 2021, stumbling across this short 2016 daydream about my life in 5 years. Admittedly, we don’t have a cabin or a pool or a garden, but I’m struck by how certain details line up.  Just last weekend in fact we took a four-day trip to a cabin in the mountains with friends we met in our neighborhood, the kids played, we hiked and picnicked, we played tons of games and I laughed so hard that I cried.  I drove us there and back in our little car.  Writing it then and reading it now, the fact that I was daydreaming about a weekend get-away with family and friends, beautiful sunny weather, hikes, food and laughter never surprised me, but the part about the car did.  At that point, I’d been living in France for almost 12 years and never once had I missed driving.  Yet there it was, the very first line on the page.
After that there are about 30 pages of notes from the rehearsal process, as well as notes on logistics related to the show and installation. The show went up that April, and it was everything we hoped it would be. After the run of the show, there are a few more pages touching on people who needed to be thanked, things that needed wrapping up, potential next steps.
Then, the last few pages of the notebook are dated from a few months later, June 2016, and they’re filled with diagrams, sketches, little symbols: they’re notes from my French drivers training class.  I got my license later that year.
I remember those months of hard work and dedication to the show, followed by the months of prep for the grueling French driving exam (there was only a 17% success rate that year), all while trying to manage a three-year-old Elliot and adjust to our new life in Toulouse.  At the time, it felt like forever. But now, I see those events as almost side by side, the first and last pages of one little soft covered notebook.   With a pen and paper, I wrote down a daydream and in doing so,  I planted a seed. Five years have gone by and here I am.
Be careful what you wish for.
http://polaroid41.com/daydream/

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