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January 29, 2005
Wade in the water.
Never blogged a dream before, so this oughta be interesting:
The first part I remembered after waking up was that L and I were in a bustling deli. I'm filling in the blanks here, but let's call it the lunch rush.
It felt like NYC -- a din of diners, and the humid air near the counter was perforated with food smells and shouted orders from waiters to line staff, the grind of machines slicing meat, humming refrigerators, cash registers, etc. Every now and then, the front door would open and a tide of traffic noise would surge in.
I wasn't hungry, and I recall feeling that we were in a hurry to get somewhere, so I was confused as to why we were stopping. After waiting patiently, L got the ear of a graying counterman in his fifties with long sleeves rolled up past his elbows. I didn't hear him take her order, but he moved away swiftly.
We waited for a few minutes, then a few minutes more. I wanted to ask her what she'd ordered, but the noise was too great. I people-watched instead; the action behind the counter of a busy Manhattan delicatessen was positively florid. It reminded me of a nature program where a huge pack of animals crowds together for some common purpose, like crossing a river or making a migration.
The counterman walked back towards us, holding a styrofoam tray in one hand and a plastic bag in the other. He caught me looking hopeful, and genially shook his head "no" as the tray dropped into the bag. In the same motion, he deftly spun the wrapped tray, twisting the bag so he could knot it.
We waited a while longer, and it was still too loud to ask L what we were waiting for. I couldn't see her face through most of the dream; it was crowded, and I was standing slightly behind her and to the right. The counterman came our way holding two half-filled squeeze bottles of mayo and mustard and handed them to L.
She smiled sweetly enough to show those adorable dimples and turned to face me. Her body language indicated that her business was transacted, so I followed her out the door and onto the sidewalk. Just then, she wheeled on me, eyebrows high in the air; she'd forgotten something.
I held the door for her, as she was holding a bottle of condiments in each hand, and we plunged back into the deli and wedged our way through people back to the take-out area. The counter man saw us and gave L a nod of acknowledgement before dipping low under a counter. He emerged with a red plastic sports bottle -- identical to the matching set L and I use at the gym -- and filled the bottom with ice cubes before topping it off with water from a soda gun.
He screwed the top on the bottle as he walked towards us and handed it to me. "You forgot to wait for the water," he said.
I thanked him and we left, L opening the door for me with her hip.
And then I woke up, and I have this damned song in my head. Luckily, a Ramsey Lewis version is on my iPod.
And since I'm in still in a bit of a dream state, here's something else that's odd: I'm sitting in this corner cafe, and a few minutes ago, the first car at the light was a green Morris Mini with a Welsh Corgi leaning out the passenger window. At the same moment, "Space Cowboy" by Jamiroquai comes on my headphones.*
* Those of you who caught this oblique reference should feel free to explain it to the others in the comments section.
Posted by Your Protagonist at January 29, 2005 12:30 PM