“Still it cried ‘Sleep no more!’ to all the house: ‘Glamis hath murder’d sleep, and therefore Cawdor shall sleep no more,—Macbeth shall sleep no more!” ― William Shakespeare, Macbeth
I treated myself to the Sleep No More experience last night, complete with dinner and live jazz at The Heath restaurant before the show. I turned off my phone for the entire night and soaked in every detail. The food was phenomenal, the service was excellent and the experience began. As soon as it was over I wanted to do it again. If ever in the NYC area you must treat yourself.
I jotted down random thoughts in my journal before and after the show and they turned into this:
As the white handkerchief roamed the ceiling
the pickle pot
(turnip, beet, okra, potato, pepper, strawberries, carrots and onions)
danced in my mouth.
Tossing my head back with a bubbly giggle I notice the blackbird suspended.
I hate to see her go but I love to watch her leave,
in her white silk dress, arm lingering on necks.
Here we go on a quest to remember, forget, follow and lead,
maybe find the handkerchief.
The band plays on.
A story is told through the music in the bathroom floor
Lost children and streets of bricks and dust.
Bathtub water browned with blood.
Hanging herbs and chalk on the walls.
Paper wrapped in red string.
Letters strewn on the floor
white masked shufflers bumping shoulders and stepping on toes.
The stairs flirted with my dress when I descended,
back to where I began when
“you will do best here”
was whispered in my ear by the elevator conductor.
Fleeting moments of judgement crossed my eyes when I saw grasped hands.
Rooms and corners left undiscovered,
Drawers and books left untouched.
A ring placed on a finger and so much lipstick.
Out damn spot began with twisted arms and backs slammed against walls.
Lady M, black in a gold sequin dress, flings herself at the window.
The hanging man.
Haze fills the banquet table,
hands and lips lock.
The noose slips around the night and we are done.