On a personal note… there’s something in the air today in Southern California. Something besides smog, I mean. Actually it’s thicker than smog. Smog needs more light than this to make it hazy. This? It’s like walking through a Turkish bath.
Being as it’s Saturday, I walked over to Pascal’s patisserie for a tart around 9 AM. A sign on the door said “Cerrado.” The fare may be French, but the baker’s definitely Spanish. I could see him moving around in there in his chef whites. So I knocked on the window to get his attention and asked, muffled through glass, “When will you open?” He mouthed back, “Come back around ten.”
Ooooo-kay, then.
Pascal opens religiously every day at seven. Something must be in the air for him to oversleep like this. Fact is, I slept in until almost eight this morning. That’s unusual for me. Also I had a dream. Not an MLK dream, but a REM sleep dream. You know, the kind where you wake up short of breath and wondering which city you’re in. I haven’t had one of those in a good long while. Like I said, something’s in the air.
In the dream I was standing at an ATM trying to get some cash. But there was something wrong with my card. Maybe I just had the wrong card? Whatever it was, I kept trying – different PINS, different cards. But no matter what I tried, it wasn’t working. Also, there was a long line forming behind me. You know how impatient people can get standing in line. Finally, behind the scenes, something let loose. Not only did I get cash back, but also… the ATM turned into something like a reverse bowling alley. There, back up the ball return came… not just cash, but also candy and trinkets and a whole lot of merchandise. I stuffed it all – fast – into the leather handled zipper bag I had with me. Why did I have this bag in the first place? No idea. But I got out of there – fast – just happy not to be holding up the line anymore. Then I woke up.
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In my younger days I thought of dreams as windows into the soul. Or at least, some kind of reflection of the deep psyche. Now that I’m on the down slope side of sixty, I’m just grateful for sound sleep. Dreams? They’re a bonus.
As for the air quality, I take it back. Now that the sun’s higher up in the sky, I see it’s overcast out. That is not so unusual here in the so-called rainy season. With the cloud ceiling risen, the sun is trying to peek through. In a semi-tropical paradise, with flowers like this, in mid-December? It’s bound to induce a little oddity: In one’s dreams, in one’s psyche, wherever.
As for Paschal? He probably had a special event to cater early. Now it’s past ten, I’m gonna walk back over there and find out.