A Real Fantasy In A Fantastic Reality
Setting: A fantastic reality, which could be represented in many, many ways, such as a bare stage
(lights up, Reality leans against a wall of the stage, Fantasy enters from the opposite side of the stage, Reality moves toward Fantasy, center stage)
R: Have I seen you around here before?
F: I don't know, have you?
R: Well, I'm here all the time, and I think I have seen you once or twice.
F: Maybe you have.
R: What's your name?
F: Yeah, Fantasy.
R: Your name's Fantasy?
F: (groans) Yes. My name is Fantasy.
R: What are you, a stripper?
F: Ha ha.
F: No. I'm just fantasy.
R: Who would name their child Fantasy?
F: No one named me. I am fantasy.
R: Right, but why is your name Fantasy?
F: My name is Fantasy, because I am fantasy. Small 'f'.
R: Ohhhh... you, you think you are fantasy, as in dreams, as in wishes, as in the human capacity for creating worlds and circumstances which probably never could or, at least, are highly unlikely to occur?
F: Yes, I am that fantasy.
R: You don't exist then.
F: I exist.
R: No you don't.
F: I exist. I'm right here.
R: Like I said, I'm here all the time, and I almost never see you.
F: Maybe you have a problem seeing things that are right in front of you.
R: I am what's right in front of me.
F: Yeah? Who are you, anyway?
R: I'm Reality.
F: And you make fun of my name?
R: It's my name and...
F: What are you a mortician?
R: No, I'm...
F: An accountant?
R: My name is Reality, because I am reality. Small 'r'.
F: Ahh, yeah. I've heard about you.
R: Of course you have.
F: Heard you were a real asshole.
R: I may be an asshole, but at least I'm real.
F: I'm as real as you, and I'd rather be a pretend asshole any day.
R: You don't really exist though.
F: I am creativity. I am divination. I am impulse. I am thought. I am the spaces between everything that you purport to be. Everything that you can't juggle, I can pick up and suspend infinitely with no effort at all. You are regulation. You are everything I would never want to be.
R: But I'm real.
F: And I can change how you are perceived. I am the lens through which you are seen. How real is that?
R: I'm still objective. I can be measured. You are impossibility.
F: And impossibly beautiful.
R: You're not so beautiful.
F: I never hear about people escaping into you.
R: No, they escape from me, because I'm all-powerful. People can't handle that.
F: So everyone fears you, and you think this is good?
R: Better than everyone loving me.
F: That's a curse, true, but only in as much as you intrude.
R: And I intrude everywhere, don't I?
F: Like I said, you're a real asshole.
R: And you're a false promise.
F: Listen. Let's just leave it at that, okay? I've got clients all day. It's a busy life when everyone loves you.
R: I'm sure it is.
F: How about you?
R: (pause, then confessionally) No one scheduled for today.
F: Just like every day before?
R: Yeah, I guess. I'll just be over here, where I always am.
F: Don't worry about it; eventually someone will see you.
R: Oh, I wish.
F: Well, you wish you could wish.