Sitting in a cafe on a lovely, foggy street. Obviously in Europe. . .just obviously. Across the street I see the ocean and tiny islands scattered in a line to the horizon. It is chilly out, a mist in the air, waves breaking onto rocks. I run over with a camera to take a picture, and notice a carnival - quaint, retro, the rides shimmering in the fog. All bright pastels against the grays. One ride catches my eye - it is a spinning carousal that lifts high into the sky, back and forth, the laughing children on the ride appearing and disappearing. I pick up my camera and take a photo right as the ride is above me and it is perfect - the kids with a 1,000 different expressions, the colors of the ride pink and green, the ocean crashing at just the right moment. A woman comes up behind me and points at the photo on my camera and shakes her head while smiling "I've been trying to get that shot for years" she said before walking away.
I cross back over the street and return to the cafe. My friend sits there with his coffee. I am excited, I say "Let's go! We've never been to Copenhagen, to Amsterdam, to Berlin. . .let's just go, like we used to!"
He sadly shakes his head. "You have no shoes" he says. I look down at my feet, dirty and bare, and realize he's right. I can't go. I don't have any shoes. Suddenly, the joy is gone and the dream fades away.
It was the sort of dream that left me feeling rather sad this morning.
Other things I dreamt about last night:
Arriving at a yoga class only to find out it was over and watching the people stream from the classroom, holding their mats, all with that slightly dazed, glowing expression that only an hour of yoga can produce. I felt so alone and forgotten.
Trying to take Sammy to the vet only to realize that he has a new owner who had come to take him away from me. He was an old man, white hair and beard, looked like a psychology professor. I cried as he took my dog, but I knew I had no choice in the matter. The old man told me to "leave now" and I did.
There is one more, but it is too fuzzy in my head, I didn't capture it quickly enough. I just have vague images of sitting on a patio with two women drinking coffee while someone was trying to break down the door to get to us. None of us seemed overly concerned.
Time for coffee, dog walking, and another day of training for my new job. It's one of those mornings that I am having trouble shaking off the world of dreams, the grey fog that followed me through each dream still surrounds me. It's one of those mornings I wish I could sit here and write, work on (one of) my books that exist in fragments scattered through piles of notebooks and random Word documents. Someday they will all come together. Maybe someday. Today, however, I have to shake the fog and return to reality.
(I really wish I had been wearing shoes. . .)
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