Wandering around manhattan. Found that the latest fad were coffeehouses done as black/r&b/jazz themed with a world class pastry chef.. reminded me wood-panelled steak houses.
As I was going into one I bumped into a tall, pretty bubbly woman.
She seemed awful glad to meet me.
When in the coffee house, I took a seat and had a simple coffee. (I seemed to be broke in the dream too, gahdurnit.)
When I looked back, there was the woman, who waved at me from her table... then invited herelf to mine.
We had a great old time, her buying, with the pastry chef personally coming over to give us our orders. WOW, she had an appetite. Enjoyed her pastry.
We walked out to Central Park, the streets beautiful after a rain, she talking a mile a minute.. me not saying much.
Then when it came time to find out who she was ... a horde of media folk came out of nowhere.. to accuse her, Julia Roberts, of merely picking me up in a long tradition of picking men up.
I remember not wanting to being one of many (the song Little Red Corvette going through my mind) so I quietly drifted off, leaving her to face the media horde, not intending to get in touch with her.
I remember wondering afterward if it was the right thing to do. She seemed awful nice. It seemed if I had never known who she was and her history.....
Segue past what seemed to be a bus crash carrying chinese immigrant women who were coming back from the supermarket. As if I were in the middle of TV broadcast, but not. It seemed the bus had crashed in the rain into a junkyard, with injured women, brightly colored shopping bags and groceries strewn all over. Hazmat folk were dumping the groceries, which seemed wrong somehow as the women had traveled far to simply get their groceries.
Past the junkyard, just outside of the New York City limits, I stumbled upon people skyjumping from hundreds of feet up from a tower.
I joined them jumping, in the drizzle, in the rain. We all had to walk back a long way to the buses.. this being New York, and the buses only going out so far.
As dreams do, it became surreal, as I stumbled upon a video shoot.. for, Im not sure.. it seemed to be a multi-cultural array of hula dancers, all colors, all models, with hooting beachgoers writhed with movie smoke and real fog. Then with a flash and much smoke, a neon yellow, new volkswagen beetle extended pickup truck roared over a ramp and skidded to a stop on the rain-slicked beach.
I remember thinking that it looked awfully like a Mustang II, and I wouldnt buy one.
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Okie, thas the last time I have a day-old custard donut for lunch, and have coffee with a bright, bubbly woman who monopolizes the conversation...
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Maria's Bakery, now Dragon's Land , in Chinatown.
Miss my cold Ovaltine mixes.
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