A Woman is alone at home. The sounds of the outside word, of the protesting people and of the violence which all around, are filling her space. She wants to escape it, but not yet; she tries to let the sounds in; she tries to deal with it. But she can’t, her fear and need to escape the world outside is stronger. She slams the window shut.
Hmmmm
Hummm
Hummm
Listen.
Listen.
Another night
A small room in a big city.
A Golden city by the ocean… Hmmmm
Hmmmm
I’m sitting on my bed.
Talking with my significant other.
Hey.
Significant Other.
Don’t worry about it.
Sure?
It’s my turn.
I know.
I still feel sorry for you.
I told you.
Don’t worry about it.
I got this.
I know what I!m doing.
Good.
Good.
Go.
Go back to your screen.
Thanks.
I got this.
Go.
And Significant Other leaves.
Back to the screen in another room. And I’m left alone.
Well, not alone.
Listen.
Baby, Baby.
Go to sleep, baby.
Go to sleep.
Baby, Baby.
They say it’s good for your brain. And good for me.
Now.
Go to sleep, baby.
Go to sleep.
I’m going to sing you a song.
The sea is blue.
And quiet is the sea.
The sea is deep and quiet.
And deep is the quiet blue deep white sea. Pacific.
Still awake?
Let’s try again, a new song..
And then my significant other walks in.
What’s up?
Still awake?
Still awake.
Yeah.
I see.
Yeah.
Listen.
Enough of the screen. Today’s my free day So I’m gonna go out.
Sure, where?
You know. The thing. Outside.
Oh, sure.
I know. Yeah. Yeah.
Bye. Bye.
Still awake.
OK.
Still awake.
That’s fine.
I need a new song… A new song…
Let’s try this song.
It’s from Africa.
From the delta.
Some river in the Congo. I think.
Something, something, something. Something.
And the boy rows down the river.
And the crocodile opens his mouth. And the boy keeps rowing and rowing. Something, something. something. The river runs deep.
A brown river.
A deep brown river.
A quiet river.
A flood.
Something, something. Repeat.
Still awake?
OK.
Still awake.
Baby, baby.
Go to sleep, baby. Go to sleep, baby. Baby.
Because I want to go out. That thing, you know? Which side are you on? Which side are you on?
My side
And your side No one else’s…
I’d love to..
How can I ever go out? I can’t leave you here. Alone.
Sleeping alone. Sleeping.
Alone.
If you ever sleep.
Still awake?
OK.
I need a new song… A new song… Listen.
One elephant.
Two elephants.
Hanging from a spiderweb. Three elephants.
Four elephants.
Hanging from a spiderweb. A spider web.
Of spiders.
Elephants covered in spiders. Hanging from spiderwebs. Elephants.
Still awake?
Still awake.
I need a new Song… A new Song…
I’m OK with staying at home, you know?
Yeah.
Yeah,
Singing with you.
Yeah.
Yeah.
I mean — I’ve been out a lot. Over the years,
A lot.
A lot.
I mean.
I used to be wild,
My hair all blue and green.
I have pictures.
Still awake? Still awake.
Maybe it’s too stuffy in here. Let me open the window.
(Opens the window, street sounds)
Oh.
Oh.
Oh – oh – oh.
Nice breeze
Wild breeze.
Wild street
Wild people
Will you be wild like them one day? Don!t look at me like that
I used to be wild, my hair all green and blue I have pictures
Wild street
Crazy street
Loud street
Loud people
Will you be loud like them one day? Don!t look at me like that
I was a teenage enemy of the state A young destroyer of oppression.
But now I don’t believe in singing. I don!t believe in screaming.
I don’t believe in chanting.
In chanting outside on the wild street. The loud street.
Not anymore.
Don’t look at me like that
I don’t care about politics anymore.
I used to.
But now I only care about you.
We live in some sort of war. And the world is ending. We live in some sort of war.
Look outside
The smoke stacks. The screams.
The sirens.
The people
The songs.
The hope.
Hope?
Hmmm
Listen
Let’s be honest here baby.
Those people chanting out there, Those people singing.
They won’t stop.
They can’t stop.
We live in some kind of war. Who needs to sleep,
When the world is on fire.
Listen, baby.
I’ll tell you what.
Sometimes you have to do stuff.
Important stuff. Tonight.
We go outside. Run downstairs To the street.
So I walk down the street Holding you baby.
Still trying
Go to sleep, baby.
Go to sleep.
And you’re still awake. Loving the street lights. And the sirens.
And the screams. What’s going on?
And finally we make it to the crowd.
And here I am.
Holding the baby.
Not falling asleep.
Very much awake.
And the people there see me holding a baby. They give me the thumbs up.
And I smile back. Thumbs up.
But I’m angry.
Of course.
Who isn’t?
This madness has to stop. So I start screaming. Screaming loud.
(Police sirens)
My face is red.
Sweating.
Holding the baby.
And the sirens get closer. So I run.
And then I hide.
And then I run again. And then there’s a bang. Or a boom.
A boom and a bang. Everyone runs.
And I run.
There!s smoke.
The white smoke.
The chemical weapons. So I run faster.
So fast.
So fast.
the baby is laughing. And I keep running. Running and running. Running.
Until I’m alone. Until I get lost. Very lost.
What am I doing out here? What am I doing?
What a weird night.
I guess it’s not my place to join the protests.
Single mothers need to stay at home. Especially at bedtime.
War or peace.
The baby needs to sleep.
But if there’s no justice, then there’s no peace. Is there, baby?
The baby is very awake. Still awake.
Go to sleep baby.
Go to sleep.
And then a car pulls over. Window down.
A lady.
(spoken)
Hey, you with the baby.
Me?
Yeah.
You.
Do you need a ride?
Me?
Yeah.
It looks like you need to get home. It’s free.
So the lady gives me a ride. Free.
Weird night, uh? Oh yeah.
Weird.
Baby can’t sleep? No.
Have you tried a lullaby?
Sure.
But it’s not working.
Listen, I’m no scientist, she says. I’m no scientist.
But I read somewhere that you shouldn’t get anxious about that lullaby. That lullaby you’re trying to compose.
For the baby. Really?
Yeah.
An article.
I read that when the baby doesn’t go to sleep, she is raising you. What do you mean? Raising me?
Yeah.
The baby.
Raising YOU.
See, the baby is forcing you to come up with a new lullaby.
A better lullaby.
She’s pushing you to come up with new words, new melodies, you know?
Ok.
So the baby is pushing you to be more creative, you know?
There’s an evolutionary advantage in having a more creative parent, you know? I mean — the baby’s always thinking you’re not trying hard enough.
And the baby wants you to struggle.
To really come up with a better lullaby.
So she can fall asleep.
For her survival.
I’m talking cavemen stuff here.
But it’s science.
Wait.
My baby thinks I’m not trying hard enough?
Oh, no.
You just said that.
Did I?
You did.
Oh, well.
Maybe I’m wrong.
You can’t believe every single thing you read on the internet.
Sure.
Right?
Sure.
For example, this thing I just told you.
It doesn’t really sound true.
When you think about it.
But it does kind of make sense.
But just forget about it.
The website had too many ads.
Fishy ads.
That!s how you know.
So maybe it’s fake science. Maybe.
I’m not a scientist, you know?
Listen.
This is our building. Sure.
And she pulls over.
Wait.
You’re raising that baby by yourself, aren’t you?
Oh.
No.
Well, yeah.
Yes.
I mean, sometimes I imagine I have a significant other.
Just to imagine someone is helping me out.
With the baby.
With life.
You know.
Yeah.
I get it.
But this imaginary significant other is always leaving, for some reason. Always on the way out.
Out there.
Why do you ask?
Because, since you are raising your baby alone — Sorry.
What?
All I wanted to say is you’re not alone.
Because this thing —
About the baby being awake.
Not falling asleep.
This thing has been going on forever. Everywhere.
Yeah.
The baby has to go to sleep every single night. A war.
A party.
A protest.
A broken heart.
The baby still has to sleep. With a song.
Go to sleep, baby.
Go to sleep.
That’s our oldest song, you know? Everyone sings that song.
So don’t ever think you’re singing alone. Because you’re singing with a lot of people.
So you’re part of a chorus of sorts.
You are not alone.
If you sing a lullaby, you are joining a big choir. You’re whispering into your baby’s ear.
While a million voices whisper into your ear. Go to sleep baby.
Go to sleep.
Well, thank you.
Bye.
And she drives away.
The weird lady drives away.
And we go upstairs. And we go inside. And we lay down.
And I start singing, softly. A war.
A protest.
A party.
A broken heart
Still the baby must sleep. With a song.
Go to sleep, baby.
Over the fire.
Over the screams.
Over the sirens.
And they keep singing, no matter what so it’s a chorus of sorts.
You sing the lullaby, you join a choir. You are not alone.
You whisper in the baby’s ear.
And a thousand voices whisper in your ear. Go to sleep baby.
Go to sleep.
And suddenly the baby is asleep. Sleeping.
Deep.
Not awake.
Asleep.
I can’t move.
I can’t breathe.
But the baby isn’t waking up, so I breathe.
Such a weird night.
It seems unreal.
Like one of those half dreams.
The ones you dream when you’re half asleep.
I dreamed that the baby wanted to survive by making me stronger.
That the baby defeated me
Over and over.
Defeated my made-up song
By not falling asleep.
So I could compose a better song.
A sleeping song
Far away the protest. It’s fading
The screams
the chants
Now I can only hear a chorus. A very weird hum
A weird, loud distant chorus a tiny chorus in my ear.
It’s a song.
A sleeping song
I see ten little birdies,
swinging from a tree, Singing in a choir: Baby go to sleep. Close your eyes, and go to sleep.
And we are all the birdies
and we are all the choir
Baby, baby, baby — please, baby go to sleep. Baby go to sleep.
END.
