Caitlin Hernandezfrom Dreaming in Color("Dreaming In Color" is an original musical written by Caitlin Hernandez, and produced by CRE Outreach in July of 2013 at the Promenade Playhouse in Santa Monica, CA.) BRENNA: When's the funeral? MOM: Well, it's in a few days, but … but I don't know— BRENNA: There's no way I can speak at it. Can you? MOM (after a beat): I don't think so. BRENNA: Somebody should speak. Maybe Grandpa can. MOM: Brenna … I'm not sure you should go. (Brenna snaps to attention, sitting in a rigidly erect position while facing Mom.) BRENNA: What!? (Mom takes Brenna's hand while Brenna, still sitting up tensely, becomes more and more incredulous and worked up.) MOM: Just think about it. You're not used to going places without being able to see. And a funeral? It's going to be overwhelming on its own, and I'm just afraid it's going to be too much for you. BRENNA: I can't believe you. You don't want me to go to my own father's funeral! MOM: That's not what I mean. I'm just trying to do what's best for you. BRENNA: I'm going. And you can't stop me. MOM: Brenna, listen— (Brenna, rising as she speaks, wads the blanket into a ball. In a fit of pique, she throws the blanket on the ground in front of her with all her might.) BRENNA (with furious conviction): If you don't let me go, I will hate you forever! I will never speak to you again! (Brenna tries to storm away, but she promptly trips on the bunched-up blanket and falls. Mom, very much alarmed, immediately rushes to help Brenna, who is lying prone with her face to the ground.) MOM (panicking): Brenna! (Kneeling over Brenna, Mom anxiously hovers, clearly both distraught and entirely unsure what to do.) MOM: Oh, Bren, are you okay? (Brenna doesn't raise her head.) BRENNA (close to tears): What do you think!? (Mom rubs Brenna's back, but Brenna still refuses to sit up.) MOM: Brenna, look at me. BRENNA (audibly devastated): Why? It's not gonna do me any good. (Mom helps Brenna to a sitting position.) MOM: If you feel that strongly about it, then of course you can go. BRENNA: I need to go. But … how can I? I won't know what's going on, and everybody's going to feel sorrier for me than they do for Dad, which is totally messed up. I won't know who anybody is, or if they're talking to me, or if they're looking at me, and … how will I know which clothes to wear? And I can't even walk by myself. MOM: I'm going to be there to help you. And before you know it, you'll be able to do all those things on your own. BRENNA (losing control again): In how long? Months? Years? My whole life? MOM (thinking out loud): I'm not denying that it's all going to take some time, Brenna. But you're such a fast learner. You've always been open-minded … and flexible … and you're so good about trying new things. Remember when you switched from pastels to painting? You said, "Oh, I can't do that!" And now you prefer painting. (During Mom's little speech, Brenna becomes more and more distraught. Finally losing her patience, Brenna clambers to her feet.) BRENNA (angrily, still close to tears): Mom, what is wrong with you? This isn't about art, which, in case you forgot, I can't even do anymore! MOM: Bren, I'm sorry; I didn't mean it like that. BRENNA: Stop acting like all this is gonna be a walk in the park … because it isn't! MOM: Brenna, that's not what I said! BRENNA: It's easy for you to say that this isn't a big deal when you're not the one this happened to! MOM (finally getting angry in turn): Brenna! This is hardly easy for me. BRENNA: Why don't you try walking a mile in my shoes, and then we can talk about "easy"! MOM: How can you say that? I've lost my husband of twenty years. My daughter lost her father and her sight. And there is nothing whatsoever I can do to fix it. How do you think that makes me feel? BRENNA (defeated): I don't care. You don't have to start your whole life over again without being able to see. MOM (passionately): I would if I could. If there was any way in the world for me to do it, I'd trade places with you in a second! (Brenna flails her way over to the couch, kicking her feet in an attempt to locate it. Once she finds it, she sits clumsily.) BRENNA (snidely): Yeah, well, lucky for you, there isn't a way to do that. MOM: Why are you acting like this? (Brenna half-rises to shout and point at Mom before collapsing back onto her side of the couch and covering her face with her hands.) BRENNA (furiously, close to tears): Why are you acting like this!? Why can't you understand!? (Mom sits on the couch beside Brenna and attempts to touch her. Brenna, losing her composure, roughly bats away Mom's hands and struggles not to cry.) MOM: Bren, I do understand. I know how scared you are. I know how hard all this is, but— BRENNA: You don't know! Nobody knows what this is like! Nobody has a clue what this is like!
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