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Spanning Three Continents in a Matter of Minutes
In my dream last night, Pat and I were staying at a hotel that was walking distance from Jerusalem's Old City, much closer to it than when I lived on Mt. Scopus for my junior year of college. I was so excited to show it to Pat and it was Shabbat (Sabbath), and so her first sight of the Western Wall (the only remaining part of the ancient temple) would be even more dramatic/full of people/celebratory.
But we never made it. We kept walking down the wrong alley and being misdirected by strangers, who were friendly enough, but misguided.
Next, I was on my own in Northern Westchester County. I was heading to the Adirondacks, for a semi-annual trip that Pat and I make with ~80 female couples (we do make this trip in real life twice a year), and I ran into a colleague I like from work. She urged me to come to her home and join our other colleagues there (in real life, she lives in California and I've not been there on business since we've begun working together, and I've not been to her home).
Because I enjoy her company, I said yes and she rode with me in my car, a station wagon -- my parents', which I haven't driven since high school. We parked by a beach (there are none in Northern Westchester County) and so I guess we were in Westport, CT by now. It was a long walk to her street from where we parked.
When we got there, I was reminded of the homes Pat and I saw last night when we took a walk around the most established part of our housing development here in India. They were gorgeous, and in the dream, some of them were commercial, including the one on the corner that she heartily recommended we enter for some shopping.
I didn't want to shop. I just wanted to visit her home for a brief while and then make my way up to the Adirondacks. But I went in and struggled among all the eclectic stuff to find anything of interest. Finally, I found a Haggadah (the story of Passover), which was homemade, apparently by a pre-Bar Mitzvah boy. It had a soft, burlap cover and inside, he had pasted some sand and other messy materials, but as I flipped through it, I was impressed by his originality and decided to buy it.
The cashier looked like Bubbles from "Absolutely Fabulous" and told me that the book was US$65. I thought, God, I don't want to pay that much money for this book, but oh well, I guess it is one-of-a-kind.
"Do you take credit cards?" I asked.
"No, but --"
"If the ATM isn't mere steps away, I won't buy this. I'm in a hurry."
"It's just a couple of blocks from here."
"No, sorry." And I walked out of the store, relieved not to have spent the money.
I never made it to my colleague's and instead, went searching for my car, which I couldn't readily find. After much walking, I thought I spotted the area around the bend of which it would be.
Unfortunately, there was a low fence I had to climb over, plus some wet rocks and crashing surf to navigate, till I figured out that I could climb across solid marble bleachers till I got there. I was walking among the bleachers and passed a placid, happy American couple (man and woman) -- we smiled at one another -- and I kept walking, sure that I was on my way toward the car, but disappointed at my lateness, and then I woke up.