by Drew Martin
I had a couple dreams last night that I remember. The first revolved around a library near my house in New Jersey where Michael J. Fox was working. There was a young man curled up on a cedar bench on the library’s back patio. He was clutching a cloth-wrapped bundle. It turns out he tried to deliver assault guns to the library the night before but it was closed so he decided to sleep on the bench to wait for the library to open. Apparently, the library had ordered the guns as a measure to protect the facility against an armed attacker. I met a woman at the library. She was a thin brunette business woman who I thought was older than me but then realized she was probably a year or two younger. We went outside and ended up lying naked on a grassy knoll under a crisp white Martha Stewart – Kmart collection quilt, and then my teenage daughter approached and told me it was time to go.
The second dream I had, started on a narrow cobble-stone street, lined by small stone buildings in disrepair. One side of the street was Poland, the other side was the Czech Republic. I was in an old, dirty Eastern European car (a Škoda or a Polonez), which was full of people. There were calls in Polish and Czech hawking the same items. One woman would yell a product in Polish, “Polish eggs!” and then another woman would yell in Czech, “Czech eggs!” This continued as the car slowly rolled down the street muddy winter street, which was barely wide enough for it. Then we stopped, and my father-in-law got out so he could buy some things. I got out too and saw crates of plums in the back of small, green farm truck. The plums were deep purple, almost black. They were huge but were all going bad and had broken skin. I realized I had to go to the bathroom so I walked down this border-town merchant’s street, and turned right down a side street where there was not much going on. At the end of the street was a tree-lined road, and beyond that was a field. Halfway down this street was an empty parking lot and a small white-washed structure with a painted sign - WC.
I had a couple dreams last night that I remember. The first revolved around a library near my house in New Jersey where Michael J. Fox was working. There was a young man curled up on a cedar bench on the library’s back patio. He was clutching a cloth-wrapped bundle. It turns out he tried to deliver assault guns to the library the night before but it was closed so he decided to sleep on the bench to wait for the library to open. Apparently, the library had ordered the guns as a measure to protect the facility against an armed attacker. I met a woman at the library. She was a thin brunette business woman who I thought was older than me but then realized she was probably a year or two younger. We went outside and ended up lying naked on a grassy knoll under a crisp white Martha Stewart – Kmart collection quilt, and then my teenage daughter approached and told me it was time to go.
The second dream I had, started on a narrow cobble-stone street, lined by small stone buildings in disrepair. One side of the street was Poland, the other side was the Czech Republic. I was in an old, dirty Eastern European car (a Škoda or a Polonez), which was full of people. There were calls in Polish and Czech hawking the same items. One woman would yell a product in Polish, “Polish eggs!” and then another woman would yell in Czech, “Czech eggs!” This continued as the car slowly rolled down the street muddy winter street, which was barely wide enough for it. Then we stopped, and my father-in-law got out so he could buy some things. I got out too and saw crates of plums in the back of small, green farm truck. The plums were deep purple, almost black. They were huge but were all going bad and had broken skin. I realized I had to go to the bathroom so I walked down this border-town merchant’s street, and turned right down a side street where there was not much going on. At the end of the street was a tree-lined road, and beyond that was a field. Halfway down this street was an empty parking lot and a small white-washed structure with a painted sign - WC.