Zale's Dream

A dark stage. Suddenly one spotlight comes on. It barely lights the area. 5 small lamps are seen in the distance, but do not provide enough light to be able to distinguish features. A voice speaks.

Voice: So you’re here for the audition.

Zale: I guess so?

Voice: You don’t see too confident in your answer.

Zale: Sorry. Yeah, I’m here for the audition.

Voice: Okay, what is your name?

Zale: Zale Klein.

Voice: Age?

Zale: 18.

Voice: And are you auditioning for any specific part?

Zale: The male lead.

Voice: Very good. Now, normally we’d have you do a cold read with a partner, but we had an odd number of people come out, so you’re going by yourself.

Zale: Okay. What am I supposed to do then?

Voice: Have you prepared a monologue?

Zale: Considering I wasn’t SUPPOSED to...

Voice: No need to get snippy.

Zale: Well...

Voice: Luckily we’re always prepared, take that book and open it to page 91 please.

Zale: What book?

[Another spotlight appears overtop a stool. A slim white book sits on it.]

Zale: Oh, that one.

[Zale goes and picks up the book, spotlight follows him. He flips to the page specified by the voice]

Zale: [Clears throat] That’s when I noticed my hands. I’d never noticed them before. How they moved with amazing dexterity. But this flexibility, this movement of hands, can never extend the boundaries of it’s own flesh- can only reach as far as the fingertips and no further, much as the movement of time is restricted by the days of the week. So I got up and-

Voice: Okay, that’s enough.

Zale: But I haven’t even gotten through half of this thing yet! It goes over a whole page!

Voice: Yeah, but we know you’re not right. Please go.

Zale: Why wasn’t I right? I thought I was doing pretty well.

Voice: You just weren’t believable enough.

Zale: Believably WHAT?

Voice:  Emotional, worked up.

Zale: What do you mean by that?

Voice: [sighs] This scene is supposed to be like the character explaining his epiphany. It’s essentially the whole reason the play takes place. We didn’t get that from your performance.

Zale: Fine, fine. I’ll read it again. Now that I have context I’ll do it better.

Voice: No thanks, you aren’t right.

Zale: WHY WON’T YOU GIVE ME A CHANCE?

Voice: It’s obvious that...

ZALE: What is so obvious? You don’t know me! You never even gave me half a chance!

Voice: You gave us enough.

Zale: No, no I haven’t given you anything. I could have been so much more, but you gave me one look and made up your mind. The only reason you even let me read is because it was procedure, you HAD to. Isn’t that right?

[Zale pauses and waits for a response. No one speaks]

Zale: No one gives me that chance. Most of the time people look at me and see a pessimistic kid who’s nothing but a cynical loner. DO they care WHY I’m a cynic? Well it’s because no one gives a damn about what I think! To most people, I’m less than nothing and to people who actually talk to me all they do is talk AT me. Do they care about my opinion beyond the point when I’m giving them help? HELL NO THEY DON’T! Even if I do talk about myself, people either ignore it or brush it off and get back to the “important problems”! And then people wonder why I don’t talk! It’s a freaking cycle of pain here: I’m sad because I have no one to talk to because I’m sad!

[Pauses again]

Zale: I would ask if I’m over thinking this, but I already know I am. I just over think everything. It’s come to the point where I think I just live in my head. Does that make sense? I make up conversations, experiences, reactions to things that never and will never happen to me. And whenever-if ever- a situation which I planned actually occurs, I just do nothing. My mind is the only place where everything turns out right. When I bring out an idea, it becomes corrupted. That’s why they never leave. You can’t tell me that I’m wrong because it’s true. 

[Zale sits on the stool. He flips to the start of the play and reads for a bit.]

Zale: No wonder this guy wants to jump. He’s such an idiot, equating the hands with time. Time was invented, hands are physical things. Gosh he’s stupid for thinking that.  

Voice: You know, if we were putting on the play you read from you would be perfect for the lead role.

Zale: So I’m great for something that isn’t happening. Fan-fucking-tastic. 

Voice: Look, we’re glad you came out. Thank you for your WAKE UP ZALE!!!

Zale: My what?

Voice: GET UP! YOU’RE GOING TO BE LATE. OH MY GOD!

[Zale opens his eyes and sees his sister over top of him]

Sister: You slept through your alarm! Get out of bed!

[Zale looks over at his clock and sees that he has]

Zale: Damn! Okay, get out of my room so I can get dressed!

[His sister leaves and slams the door behind her. Zale sits on the bed silently]

Zale: [to himself] Complaining about living in my head while dreaming? That’s pretty meta.