What happens at night when a person is asleep and they are truly awake, reliving their deepest fears? The one-act play takes place in a street in the valleys. Chaos masquerades as a dream as he is privy to all thoughts. Can human failures and a lack of ambition be changed while people are set in their ways? Or can they be influenced by thoughts that are not really ours? I have included a scene from the opening of the play.

Chaos, kneeling, his back arched like a cat, jumps quickly to his feet, invigorated by something only he can see in the distance. He takes a sheet of paper out of his pocket, reading it cursorily, before slyly watching the audience. The woman he speaks of in the following dialogue appears fleetingly, like a shadow, downstage.

Chaos:    To cast the next person’s water I achieved. There is little hope. Still waters run deep. The light grows dimmer as these people sleep. Death sits on every shoulder and is unavoidable. This is all you will think about as you see the lines on your sallow faces and age spots on your withered hands. Gone are the days when people used to eat with just one tooth. (Giggles). You seem unaccustomed to such joshing. There are many thoughts I pluck from the greasy matter and those that fester, like a canker on a dog’s bollocks, which only worsen if you think less of it. An urge for dissipation never leaves a timid soul who longs to feel intrepid for just one second and sink into obscurity afterwards. I see she touches the door handle, like a lover caressing her man’s arm as they sleep restlessly. The minute lasts a long time because, even though the front door protects against the dead of night, the rigmarole of touching the handle repeatedly will convince her that it is locked and the world can no longer enter the sanctuary of her mind where she seeks reprieve from graven thoughts.  This is not her only weakness. I have tried to stiffen her resolve. She has craven thoughts of being unworthy. A kind gesture is all she requires.  People, like she, are fools because they are gullible to the voices of mouth less platitudes.  They listen to wretched fools, suffering from constipation of clear mind, who reiterate to them how to live their earthly lives and be independent of husbands.  This paranoia is in the politics of those who are infantile.  By the way, this reminds me. I have the letter she wrote that would be sent to the newspaper after her daughter dies. The cause, you ask. Just another misdiagnosis by an arrogant consultant. (He looks at the sheet of paper in his hand). I have never been one for social media. I prefer to write in my own hand. (Laughs). It seems that people have no regard for life as we used to know it. I remember a time when doctors and nurses were approachable and they did not look at you as if you did not exist. My understanding of ethics is probably not the same as yours. How could you have done this to me? I did not know what I was signing. My anger is that Lisa is asleep. What gave you the right to take her organs? In my eyes, her body is incomplete. How can she be allowed into heaven? I could not understand a word that bloody doctor was saying. Where did this idea originate; the hypocrisy is unbelievable. Mark said it is a form of eugenics. I did not know what he meant. He then told me and I remember how my father used to blanch when he saw those grainy black and white films and call them fucking bastards. His coarse language appalled my mother. I never swear even when I am angry. It is not nice to curse. You may say I am foolish. I have voted every time. I am not as others around here who take, take, take, as if they are entitled to everything. How can people be like this?