The Pure Life of Dreams

April 26, 2022October 22, 2022

Business Trip Embedded in a Book

I was visiting a town in the Northeast for work.

When I was driving on a cobbled stone part of town, I decided to detour to the well known pier. I headed towards the entrance and recognized a woman from the hotel, saw her park outside, instead of driving onto the pier. Then she walked away from her car, a beige dress. She was middle aged, my age.

I too stopped in front of the pier, and fortuitously found a space opposite her car, a few yards from the entrance. Then I followed her to the kiosk to buy my ticket and stepped in to look at the exhibits.

“The Lord of the Admiralty was forced to decide to be promoted as part of the nascent US fleet or stick with the British. He resigned his post instead.” I read on the plaque of a tired display of personal belongings, next to a dummy showing his uniform and cap.

The woman had moved on from the display, and I too walked further along.

The pier was covered. In fact it resembled the hull of a boat. You could peer out of the sides, through portholes at the water down below. And from one porthole I saw a freshly dead deer, the back of its body, it’s tawny fur still glistening against the lap of the water.

How did it get down there? I wondered.

But when I stepped out from the covered part of the pier, I saw that the deer was actually alive, was standing on a sliver of rock and craning its neck out to catch chunks of bread that a group of tourists were throwing at it.

I sat down on a bench back in the covered side of the pier.

And a young woman with pale white skin and short cropped black punk hair, a black choker around her neck sat with me. We kissed briefly. I was conscious of my breath and pulled away reluctant to continue. Besides we had little in common.

It seemed that if you sat around long enough you would always meet someone.

After the young woman left I fell into a deep sleep against a setting sun and when I woke up I exclaimed, ”Wow! I have been asleep for hours!”

At first I calculated 8 hours and it felt great to have slept so long. But then I recalculated it at maybe 4; it was still great to have rested even that much.

I reopened my disheveled Sherlock Holmes book; or was this now my dream within my dream?

A woman next to me. Is she the same woman with the beige dress, who sits with her husband? She, also is reading Sherlock Holmes and is further along in her book than I am in mine.

“Which was the most difficult case to solve?” she challenged.

The story I was on was not so hard, but I couldn’t recall the most difficult. Truthfully I could not remember any of the tales well enough.

I brushed my teeth but was aware of having to hurry. The pier was already closing, my visit had been very worthwhile but now I needed to leave. There was no water to rinse my toothbrush. I looked at the toilet roll but there were only a few sheets left; plus I was concerned for its primary use right next to the toilet bowl! And on the sink I saw a fuller roll sitting there. I took a couple of sheets and wiped the brush with them carefully, making sure to clean the residue off the bristles.

Then I left for the hotel.

As I walked back and through the lobby, I saw the woman in the beige dress again. Maybe we could have a drink or some dinner.

Photo by Joe Shlabotnik via Flickr
Portrait by Charles Dana Gibson 1891 via Wikimedia Commons

April 21, 2022July 26, 2025

Duck is Nearly Run Over by a Bus

We found a duck.

He stood on our bench in the corner of the diner and looked eye level directly at me. He had small round bead eyes, a white semicircular bill and he stood tall on wide webbed feet.

The duck was very cute, was covered in what looked more like white fur than feathers. I wanted to pet him but I was afraid he might bite.

Caren Nicole gave me a white bath towel to protect my hand but though wary, I stroked the top of his head without using the towel. And when I held it up to him he bit into it, held the soft towel in his bill, while I continued to stroke him. It was to show me that he wouldn’t bite.

“We got to get him out of here,” I said, so we we left the diner and he followed us out into the park.

At first I did not think he would follow us, but when we coaxed him he kept up. We passed a group of people having a cook out on a park bench and Caren Nicole cried out, ”God I can’t stand that.” She pointed out one of the guys, “acting all happy when he’s always mean at work!”

We continued through the park until we hit the road that we would have to cross. And we were crossing at the roundabout with the duck slightly ahead of us when a red double decker drove into our path.

The bus driver could not see the duck and we cried out, ”Noooo…! Mind the duck!”

The duck panicked, got confused and the bus driver span her steering wheel around to avoid him, only to spin the bus round in circles instead. And the duck tried to turn back but the bus was now in the way and hid him from view. I watched as the duck twisted his foot, slow motion, as the tire drove over it.

“No!” I cried in pain.

Then the bus drove on, with the duck left standing, startled, in the middle of the road. He had a tire mark, a streak, across the grey webbing of his right foot; otherwise he was unharmed.

“Thank God!” I said.

We brought the duck back to the pavement and put him in a kid sized Radio Flyer wagon. You could see immediately, he was happier there.

“I think my kids’ Jewish kindergarten will take him,” suggested Caren Nicole, so we started out for their school, pulled the wagon along, with the duck stood up straight in the back.

Once we arrived, we had to take him up three big concrete steps to the entrance. At the top, the door was open and I could see a long brightly lit hallway. Soft, yellow lighting, it looked inviting and it made me hopeful that they would take him.

I announced to the duck, “Hold on… we got to go up some steps.” Then I tilted the wagon so that we could get him up.

As we climbed, I sang ”bumpity, bumpity, bump!” and the wagon bumped up each step, until we reached a black childproof gate at the top. But before we could open the gate a boy, dropped off by his father, bounded up the steps, and pushed past us.

Perhaps we could follow him in, I thought.

Photo by Maren Winter via Wikimedia Commons

March 3, 2022July 31, 2022

Brilliant Minds Do Not Care What People Think

After a lunch of carrots and an apple the lecturer tells the visitors, “Now we are in the building for analytics and linguistic development… And over there is Kim Spencer, our most brilliant mind.”

The lecturer points at a woman seated behind the glass door of the conference room; just before she slides her chair out of view.

I remember her from when she was working with us; long blonde film star hair, pointed nose, dark blue eyes, full bust. She is wearing the same low-cut shimmering gold cocktail dress as when she showed up overdressed at the Christmas party. I feel very proud of her and jealous.

I could have done more, could have been part of an academic research group, just like her. Instead I feel disappointed with my career path.

Design by Madame Grès via Kristine on Flickr/Ana Lee, cropped

January 23, 2022October 22, 2022

In a Parking Lot with Guns

I am walking around with Ricky G who is considering buying a place in the area.

“Houses are cheaper across the state line by Silver Brook West,” I tell him. “If you are right across the border you can simply walk back to the shops and restaurants without having to get into your car.”

We are parked on the side with the shops but walk over the state line onto a grassy area used for cars, a makeshift parking lot used precisely for access from the other direction. “See how easy it is?”

January 12, 2022October 22, 2022

Cheese Plates in the Conference Room, Now!

There is an announcement coming down from the CEO and we need to meet at conference room PS1 in a few minutes. Where is that?

I need to get some nicer clothes. I struggle to take off my socks. They are black but ripped and I cannot find any others. So I struggle them back on again. Then a shirt. In my wardrobe there are a few shirts but all are wrong for one or other reason. Once I’ve flicked through each shirt I settle on purple with hideous white stripes on the lining.

Now I need a jacket to cover the shirt and so I continue through the hangers. One I grew out of, the other is, No! The last is brown, bland, it will do. And I am ready.