The Dream That "WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

                                   I have had some strange dreams in my time, girls, but this one was pretty bizarre, and ultimately sad.  I wonder what triggered it?

                                    Until I contemplated writing this post, I had no idea this was the 30th Anniversary of the publication of Geoff Ryman's brilliant novel, "WAS," one of my favorites.  To think this and Donna Tartt's "The Secret History" were published the same year.  Quite a time for fiction!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

                                    "WAS" is a skillful reimagining of elements in "The Wizard Of Oz," focusing on those with unstable childhoods.  The character I connected most with was Jonathan, a gay actor, dying of AIDS, who has been obsessed with the 1939 movie, ever since first seeing it on TV, (that part is ME, darlings!) and who travels with a friend on a road trip to Kansas, where he can visit "The Wizard Of Oz' Museum," and watch the movie, which is screened daily.

                                        The real life of Dorothy Gale is imagined, and it is even worse than the movie.  No Miss Gulch here; she is sexually abused by Uncle Henry!  Yes, darlings, this is far from being MGM.  She becomes aggressive and begins to act out in school--can you blame her? --until a substitute teacher named L. Frank Baum (Yes, dears!) pacifies and encourages her.

                                           Also explored is Judy Garland's actual life, her troubled childhood, her parents' unstable marriage, and that making the movie was not the fun thing many of us as children envisioned.

                                            Now, what has this to do with a dream?  Well, in the dream, I was an adult, living in Highland Park, NJ, and driving away from the town, along River Road.   I come to an empty lot--it is Summer--and I see a theater company, outdoors, mounting a musical adaptation of Geoff Ryman's novel, "WAS."  Of course, I just had to see this, so I pulled over, and sat on bleachers, where I watched a company of actors, utilizing very colorful scenery and costumes, including air balloons, enacting the story I just previously described.  The thought went through my head that the score was very much like Elizabeth Swados.  The actors performed in front of us, while we watched them on bleachers, but behind them was a huge, cylindrical swimming pool, at which point during the second half of the show, they got into and performed.  At the end of the show, just like in "HAIR," where audience members join performers on stage, the audience joined the actors in the pool.

                                             When I awoke, I wondered if any attempt had ever been made to adapt "WAS."  My first thought was the dream was a signal for me to write one, and I imagined putting up ads on bulletin boards locally and in Manhattan, searching for collaborators.

                                                 But then I discovered there had been an adaptation of the novel, back in October of 2005, seventeen years ago.  It was sponsored by The American Musical Theater Project, and presented at the Ethel M. Barber Theatre, at Northwestern University.  It was directed by Tina Landau, and had Book and Lyrics by Barry Kleinbort , and Music by Joseph Thalken.  An earlier version of this same show had been done at the Human Race Theatre, in Dayton, Ohio.

                                                    Thus ends the theatrical part of this dream, and the easiest part of the post to write.  Now, in my dreams, often people from the past, or who are deceased, appear in them.  In this dream appeared someone I had not seen or been in touch with since my high school days.  His name is/was Alan Turniansky.

                                                      In the dream, I was up in the bleachers, and at the end of the show, I spotted Alan several rows down.  We recognized each other, and he kept beckoning to me, but I was never able to catch up.  He signaled to me from a car, suggesting we go somewhere for coffee, and catch up.  Or so it seemed, to me.

                                                       What was Alan doing in my dream?  I had not thought of him in quite some time, but I always had good memories of him.  We had a casual friendship, where we would always run into each other in various parts of town, then go and hang out.  Alan was funny, bright, and very kind; he accepted all my eccentricities.  I also admired that he was very adept at math; something I wish I had been.  Looking back, it is amazing I never asked Alan to tutor me, as I am sure he would have.  But what really sealed us was our interest in comic books.  We could name all the superheroes of the DC Universe, back in the 60's and 70's, and would try to stump the other.  Once, he invited me over to his house, on the South Side, and one wall of his attic was filled, alphabetized, and archived with more comics than I could take on.  Maybe he made the convention circuit.  To this day, I wonder 

                             Like anyone curious about someone from the past, I started an online search for Alan.  I found a picture of him in the 1978 yearbook from Worcester Polytechnic Institute, where he graduated from.  I recognized the picture instantly, even with a beard, which, I have to say, enhanced his appearance.  I don't often say that about guys who grow beards.

                                This was the Alan I remembered.  Then I tried to find out more about his adult life, and that is when things turned sad.  I had heard he had been living in Florida for a time, and that was confirmed.  But everything else pointed to Pikesville, MD, which had a Jewish enclave, and made sense, as Alan was Jewish.  I recall him saying, when we were young, how, on Yom Kippur, he would stay in his room all day, and read an Alan Drury novel. He was the only one my age--actually, Alan was a year behind me--who seemed to know who Alan Drury was.  That impressed me.

                                    The more I looked in Pikesville, the more the search ended there.  But then I found his name--or one matching--indicating burial in a Jewish cemetery in the Baltimore area, and the dates were frighteningly accurate--June 4, 1956-March 7, 2008.  The Alan Turniansky I knew would have been born in 1956, so I am ninety percent sure this is he.  Such a gifted fellow, to die so young, at the age of 51?  I cannot help but wonder what happened.

                                     And I regret not making more of an effort to be friends, keep in touch, whether it turned out, or not.  I am filled with sorrow and regret, but cherish the memories I had with Alan, especially his kindness.  I never got a gay vibe from him, nor was I interested that way, but somehow, to his credit, I think he understood me, and simply accepted me for who I was.  Which, at the time, I deeply appreciated.

                                     If anyone out there can confirm all this, please fill me in.  If I am wrong, and Alan, you are out there somewhere, leave a comment on this blog.

                                      It saddens me that someone so promising died so young.

                                    But it also warns me not to search for those in your past.  It may only bring sorrow.

                                      (IF) Rest In Peace, Alan, and know you are well remembered.

                                       See why this post was so hard to write, darlings????????????????