I dreamed I was at a clown conference at Seattle Center. There were high profile stage and circus clowns teaching workshops including the man who had been director of clown college when I was there. There were inspirational clowns who worked with sick orphans in Africa. I was excited to be talking to former CC classmates who had been working in the business for 20 years since I’d last seen them.
We were walking to a workshop about hospital clowning in Uganda. I was talking to old friends I hadn’t seen in years.
I had on a full Ringling style agent suit with wig and makeup and big shoes.
My cell phone rang.
It was from my daughter’s school.
“Your daughter was not picked up fifteen minutes ago at 3 o’clock. She’s still waiting to be picked up. This is the third day in a row no-one has been here to pick her up. Don’t you care about your child?”
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