I went to bed quite late, but had set my alarm for 9.30, hoping to get up and have a productive morning, before a lunchtime appointment. Today surely would be the day I finally put the finishing touches to this bloody script that has been haunting me for the last few months. I was woken up first by the binmen coming down the street. I know they come early, so managed to turn over and continue my slumbers. A couple more times I found myself half awake and delighted that the alarm still hadnÂ’t sounded so carried on snoozing. Finally I woke up a bit more fully and something seemed awry. The sounds outside were not quite right for pre 9.30 ShepherdÂ’s Bush. I couldnÂ’t quite put my finger on why they were wrong, but I reached across picked up my phone and saw that it was in fact midday. I had failed to set the alarm properly. Bugger!
I was gripped with a temporary mild panic, but soon realised that I had not missed out on anything, nor was I late for my appointment. I had had a much needed sleep in and was feeling refreshed, which was overall probably better than if IÂ’d got up early and had blearily tried to get on with things. I got to my appointment on time and then headed to the British Library and got on with the writing. I had planned to work until the script was finished, but bumped into a friend who invited me to come and see her show in the evening, so I made do with five hours of work and then the reward of going to see some comedy.
But surely tomorrow the script will be finished. Or is this some kind of recurring “Waiting For Godot” style nightmare, where the denouement never arrives. Am I still in fact slumbering now, unaware that I’ve forgotten to set my alarm, about to awake and discover that I only dreamed writing as much of the script as I have done. Hopefully I even dreamed the part about getting the commission so I’ll open my eyes to discover I have no contractual obligations to fulfil. And maybe I’ll discover that I am not Richard Herring at all, but someone far more interesting and exciting. Like John Inman or God.
That would be great. I’ll keep pinching myself in the vague hope that I am not who I am and I don’t have the things to do that I do. Because I tell you the worst thing that could happen is that I don’t wake up until I’ve finally got the script right. Because whatever the case once you’re awake you realise the ideas that you have in your sleep (apart from possibly the song “Yesterday” by Paul McCartney) are rubbish and make no sense.
I wrote this Warming Up in my dreams quite clearly.
