(For Acting for Non Majors, from Tennesee Williams' The Milk Train Doesn't Stop Here Anymore)
CHRIS standing above her: Unreality!--lostness? Have you ever seen how two little animals sleep together, a pair of kittens or puppies? All day they seem so secure in the house of their master, but at night, when they sleep, they don't seem sure of their owner's true care for them. Then they draw close together, they curl up against each other, and now and then, if you watch them, you notice they nudge each other a little with their heads or their paws, exchange little signals between them. The signals mean: we're not in danger...sleep: we're close, it's safe here. Their owner's house is never a sure protection, a reliable shelter. Everything going on in it is mysterious to them, and no matter how hard they try to please, how do they know if they please? They hear so many sounds, voices, and see so many things they can't comprehend! Oh, it's ever so much better than the petshop window, but what's become of their mother? We're all of us living in a house we're not used to... a house full of--voices, noises, objects, strange shadows, light that's even stranger--We can't understand. We bark and jump around and try to--be--pleasuringly playful in this big mysterious house but--in our hearts we're all very frightened of it. Don't you think so? Then it gets to be dark. We're left alone with each other. We have to creep close to each other and give those gentle little nudges before we can slip into--sleep and--rest for the next day's--playtime... and the next day's mysteries.