FORREST’S DREAMS BEGAN WITH A CLASSIC—at least, a classic for people who have been in plays. Forrest found himself in a high school. Someone came up to him, a girl, and asked if Forrest had got the last scene memorized. He tried to recite the lines but realized he had no idea what the girl was talking about. What scene? What lines? In fact, what play? Forrest thought back to the last two weeks—in no way could his mind remember even signing up for a play, never mind memorizing lines. But how could he explain that not only did he not know the last scene, but he didn’t even know the play? The lights were going down, and he was the lead character in a play that he did not know a single line from. Should be bring a script on stage, should he tell the director to cancel? What were their options? There was nothing about this that made sense, so Forrest told the girl he didn’t know the scene, but left out the part where he didn’t know any lines. As he did, she let out a gasp, and her face turned red. Her eyes bugged out, as if Forrest had questioned her most deeply held personal beliefs.
“What do you mean you don’t know your lines?” the girl asked, leaving no room for empathy. And that was the dream. Of all the places his subconscious mind could take him, Forrest’s subconscious chose this: the realm of stress and shame. And the only good thing about it was waking up and realizing there was no play to star a leading role in.