It's freezing outside and very cold inside the Barn. The kind of cold that creates its own silence. Everyone is wearing scarves and jackets and hats at rehearsal. Chilly toes. That takes me back to the very first year, the darkest part of winter of 1988 - one floor above where we are now. Our first show opened right around now and it was one of the coldest weekends in Omaha history. Huge, thin warehouse windows from the 1890's, where the icy wind actually blows straight through the glass, it seems. And we were young then. Really young. Just a couple of seasons ago. It does feel like it in the strangest way. Is Omaha the midwest Brigadoon? Everything here resonates so much that it's easy to have time vertigo. Tonight we launched into scene one. All these things begin growing from some invisible soil. Some sort of really lush winter garden. My nose is like a long frozen moon orbiting above my face. Nils said he is having very vivid dreams from the play. Mine have been strongly affected, too. More around working with everyone. How many are having dreams colored by this? Still waiting to hear the train whistles at night. One of my favorite parts of this town. Trains wailing deep in the bitter night.