believing next year will be better
I open another beer

New Year’s Eve —
an empty whiskey bottle
slumped against the curb

dream sequence - part 23

I was in a beautiful old downtown building for a meeting, surrounded by tall ceilings and marble floors. Two dozen or so of us were crowded into a small conference room. I didn’t recognize anyone, but they all seemed to know one another. Before the meeting started, about half of the room was dismissed on account of a high-priority project. At that point it was decided to move the meeting to a smaller room in the basement of the building.

There were still a dozen of us left, but only one person seemed to know where we were going. He led us down a dark, narrow passage way through a maze of caves carved out of stone, climbing continually downward. Each cave was brightly lit and featured a whirlwind of activity — people walking every which way, monitors flashing and music blasting. We had been walking for several minutes and must have traveled several stories beneath street level. Sensing my apprehension, our self-appointed guide said “we’re almost there — it’s just around the corner.”

I never made it to the conference room. You and I ducked into a small, intimate cave with a comfortable couch facing a large television screen. It featured a live feed from a camera mounted inside the lobby of the building facing toward the sidewalk to give us the illusion that these passers-by were almost close enough to touch. Suffice to say, your kiss took me completely by surprise.

Of all the times for my phone to ring, I cursed the improbable reception of this underground hideaway. In reality, it was my alarm, returning me to the pre-dawn darkness of the awaiting world.