Three weeks in a blacked out rehearsal hall, trying to lose ourselves. Digging deep, pressing hard, unearthing parts of ourselves that are ugly and terrified and alone and alone and alone.

Some shows are simple. Simple stories simply told.

But some shows are nightmares. Tendrils reaching everwhere, fingers searching, and nothing ever quite connecting or giving reassurance. You are left with more questions than answers. These are the shows that tend to stay in my mind. Images remain burned in my memory like after-images on your retinas. David Lynch makes film like this. So do Hideo Nakata and Takashi Shimizu. Writers like Mark Z. Danielewski and Haruki Murakami evoke this same sense of dread and logical dislocation.

I believe this show is a nightmare. In the best possible way.

Minotaur is up and running. Come see.

More info about show times and tickets here.