I am a vivid dreamer. I rarely jot them down anymore. There’s always somewhere to rush to, an outfit to select or something to print before I can leave. Today’s dream merited a Facebook post as family was involved….
Morning dream ends. I am disappointed it was not real. I’m with an assortment of cousins (must visit them) and we’re sitting in a restaurant. The dresses we have chosen leave little to the imagination. Our high heels require a car to navigate the five boroughs.
Seated in a quasi private room a round of drinks is enjoyed. I guzzled my hefeweizen down with zest. Conversation was enjoyed over delightful food.
When a different server person drops by he apologizes, “I’m sorry the window is open. Would you like us to close it ?” He is professional, stiff, but smiling.
Jessica first looks at me, then at Suzie, for feedback. (The men in the party have consumed too much already for the night. They could make snow angels in boxer briefs and be content.) She says, “We quite enjoy it. It is finally starting to get warm outside.” (A relative term as thermometer reads 44F.)
Magically his tone changes. I’m leaning across to speak to Jasson so I miss the initial good news. Over my shoulder I quickly say, “Another beer please!” (I’m not driving. Why not?) Jasson and I begin to argue the finer points of button down shirts. My other Queens cousin, Manny, stirs his drink. Antonio is gesticulating wildly.
Emily pulls me back to the table. My ears had caught “Laphroig”. I thought, “Hmm..someone is stepping up their game.” Zoraida informs me this round is on the house. Like a child I innocently peer up at the man and thank him. Beer is such a wonderful thing. But so is money in my pocket.
Turning my shoulder ever so slightly to Jasson – I am a strong proponent for Thomas Pink shirts – my mouth begins to move again. At this point Josh, his name has developed in my brain, bends his knees so he can whisper loudly at table level.
“You can have *anything* from the bar. This is our speciality drink menu.” As he flips through a book that easily contains twenty pages, he asks, “Do you enjoy whisky?” His finger finds the section and hovers over two without a price. Instead of the outrageous numbers that preceded the other other drinks ($45, $55 a glass) the menu reads, “Price available upon request.”
“Really? I can order THAT?”
Josh smiled says yes. I say yes. And moments later a glass of Glenfiddich 1937 sits on the table.
There was more to my dream. But this is the juncture where it ended. The rain woke me.
Just know that my subconscious was thinking of Marcela Angela Winston Martha Sofia Billy Ana Carlos
There was a party last night. Y’all might be hung over.