I had a dream the other day. You’d think with a sleeping curse I’d remember my dreams more often but this one was weirdly vivid. I was on a stage, right in the center (LITTLE DAYLIGHT stands center stage, close to the audience), staring out. (she stares out)
I’m in a play about my life. I realize after a minute of standing here that I’m supposed to be talking, there’s a whole audience out there and they’re waiting, quiet. I think, ‘damn they’re really patient. Maybe they think my panicked silence is part of the play’. I want to say my lines but, whoops, don’t really know them. Luckily, dream logic makes a script appear in my hands. I start flipping through it quickly, (maybe she has a script in hand that she’s flipping through) and say a few lines about my friends; (reading the script) apparently there’s Bianca, who I have some ongoing rivalry with; Vernon, who I’m closest to; and Erin who… oh! Apparently I’m smitten.
Anyway, I’m surprised for a second because I didn’t know I had friends. The dream, maybe trying to protect itself and keep me from realizing I was asleep, it explains this with the next few lines.
(she checks the script again) Ah, it’s my dad’s doing. As usual. Each of our friendships are carefully crafted. I think Bianca is there so it all doesn’t feel too… staged. But, as I read on, I realize that all three are trying not to be upset because they had been teasing me and I mentioned it to my father and suddenly there was an order for them to apologize. For teasing.
I’m getting so interested in reading about these friends I apparently have, that I decide to pretend that my reading the script is part of the play so I walk over to the bench (LITTLE DAYLIGHT walks over to the bench) and I lay there, trying to look casual and comfortable, like this. (She lays on the ground with her feet up on the bench, holding the script above her face)
Suddenly, I see my friends for what they are; illusions. My father is the king. They didn’t secretly actually become friends with me along the way. Their each word was scripted, paid for when the sun rose, and their families were looked after. Then all I could do was imagine these poor tired kids who worked all night appeasing the king’s pitiful lonely daughter and still had lives to live and real friends to meet.
(The script slips from her hands and flutters down)
And I was really glad that it wasn’t true. That the idea to hire townspeople to be my friends had never occurred to my father, and that the cold stone I choose to lie on every night is isolated and not very comfortable but it’s real.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hello! Let me know if you’d be interested in a video of me performing this monologue! I can also provide more scenes of Little Daylight if there’s interest.
Thanks for reading!
Sabrina Parra Díaz 