The Sweeper of Dreams

English writer Neil Gaiman. Taken at the 2007 Scream Awards. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In April of 2012, the English National Opera launched a groundbreaking new contest: Mini Operas, which seeks new opera scripts (libretti), soundtracks (scores), and short films inspired by three short stories from Will Self, A.L. Kennedy and Neil Gaiman.

The following is my entry for the script writing competition, based on Neil Gaiman’s short story, The Sweeper of Dreams.

As per the competition rules, this piece is governed under the agreement of a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-Sharealike (CC-BY-NC-SA) licence.

UPDATE (June, 2012): My entry did not make it to the final ten chosen in the contest that will go on to the next round. However, I am still very pleased with how it turned out. Who knows? Maybe I’ll expand it into a full piece some day.

A mini-opera in one scene.
Libretto by David Pasieka.
Based on the short story by Neil Gaiman.

Characters

The Door Girl
The Door Girl, who acts as a narrator in this piece, is inspired by “Door”, one of the principle characters in Neil Gaiman’s novel, Neverwhere. She recounts the tale of the Sweeper and the tragic fates of those he has abandoned.

The Sweeper of Dreams
The Sweeper is the central character in the short story on which this opera is based. He is gruff and irritable, weary with the weight of a millennium old responsibility to cleanse the debris of people’s dreams; a responsibility which he despises.

The Abandoned
The Abandoned are the forsaken individuals who displeased the Sweeper and now have no-one to remove the left over detritus of their dreams. They have descended beyond despair into madness, and beyond madness into something unnameable. They have become the walking dead without having died, and they forever call out to the sweeper to return to them and set them free from their collected, rotting dreams.

Scene: As the opening bars of music begin, the lights come up to reveal a large forgotten area far beneath the streets of London, England. The walls and floor are very old and worn stone or brick, and various kinds of fungus grow all around in the dampness. Torches illuminate the scene, casting eerie shadows everywhere.

A doorway appears in one of the walls, as if by magic, and The Door Girl steps through.

The Door Girl
Listen well.
Listen well to the tale of minds that are shattered and snapped in the wind.
Listen now.
Listen now to the fable of dreams that are left to rot deep within.
He is the one you must never betray.
He is the one whose care you must keep.
He is the master of cleaning your dreams,
calming your fears.
Keep his good humour or drown in your tears,
maddened in your sleep,
ever more to weep.

The Abandoned appear as if out of thin air. They are crazed and despairing; the left over debris of their dreams having collected in their minds for years. They only yearn for the Sweeper to favor them once more, cleanse them, and set them free.

The Abandoned
Ah!

The Door Girl
See them?
They are the warning to all.
They are the damned ones who call
forever
to him.
They drove him away,
and now they must pay with their own tattered souls.
Day after day dragged across the black coals
of their desiccated dreams.

The Sweeper appears with his black, metal-studded broom. He is brooding and disturbing to behold. He is preoccupied and does not pay any attention to The Abandoned.

The Abandoned
Sweeper! Our Sweeper!
See us here! See us here! See us here!
Our dreams await your return.
How we burn!
How we drown!
Falling down.
Always down.
Ever downward.

The Door Girl
And they call,
Ever they call to him.
Ever they wait for him,
begging him
for release.
He will not hear them.
He will not see.
They are as faint to his eyes and his ears
as the shadows that flee
the morning.

The Sweeper
To stop,
to sleep,
to rest my eyes.
Oh, what I would give for the sweetness denied me.
But no.
I sweep,
ever sweeping,
never sleeping,
never stopping.

The luxury of dreaming is something foreign to me.
So long has it been since I shut my eyes,
and someone else swept my dreams.
I am the one chosen for this task.
The task is mine alone.
And I have done it.
Throughout the centuries I have done it.
A thousand years of sweeping the leftover pieces
of dreams.

But though I bare this burden,
I will not bare the scorn of others!
Never!
No!
Those who deride me,
those who chide me,
those who mock my unwanted duty and curse my name,
they shall never sleep in peace again!
I abandon them,
leave their muddled dreaming in place,
and let them go mad!
No forgiveness have I,
who must wander through the dreaming
that I myself cannot have.

I am the one chosen for this task.
The task is mine alone
and I have done it.
Throughout the centuries I have done it.
A thousand years of sweeping the leftover pieces
of dreams.

The Sweeper, The Abandoned, and The Door Girl sing the following in counterpoint.

The Abandoned
Sweeper! Our Sweeper!
See us here! See us here! See us here!
Our dreams await your return.
How we burn! How we drown!
Falling down.
Always down.
Ever downward.

The Sweeper
Those who deride me,
those who chide me,
those who mock my unwanted duty and curse my name,
they shall never sleep in peace again!
I abandon them,
leave their muddled dreaming in place,
and let them go mad!
No forgiveness have I,
who must wander through the dreaming
that I myself cannot have.

The Door Girl
Pity!
Mercy!
Try to find forgiveness.
Try to find the wisdom to give them peace.
Hear how they suffer,
hear how they call you.
Grant them the peace that you yourself seek.

End of counterpoint.

The Sweeper
(To The Door Girl)
No forgiveness have I,
who must wander through the dreaming
that I myself cannot have.
I must sweep and wander,
they must dream and suffer.
Such is the fate we must live.

I shall never forgive.

The Sweeper exits.

The Abandoned
(As they fade from sight.)
Ah!

The Door Girl
He is the one you must never betray.
He is the one whose care you must keep.
He is the master of cleaning your dreams,
calming your fears.
Keep his good humour or drown in your tears,
Maddened in your sleep,
Ever more to weep.

Expect him.
The Sweeper.
Expect him.

Blackout.