Somewhere in the back of my mind
lives a beautiful young Korean man who only shows up sometimes in my dreams. With
this young man, my heart is always singing because I am so happily in love and
ever waiting to see him once again.
I
was driving my car, when I notice that I am holding some type of powder in my
left hand. I immediately start thinking of a way to get rid of it. I know that
I need to roll down the window and throw it out but I am reluctant to give up
the use of my right hand in order to roll down the window and throw it out for
fear of losing control of the car while driving. I look up and see that I am
nearing a toll booth. A police car is parked in the center of the median, the
way they often do, and I begin to panic because this powder is still in my hand
and I now need to turn. So I illegally drive through the toll plaza and make an
illegal u turn. Then I do the same thing again and am pulled over by the police
officer.
When asked for my license and
registration, I am confident knowing that all of my papers are in order.
However, when I hand the officer my documents they are made out to a Tavaugh
Singh. He informs me that these are not my documents and then takes me to the
nearest precinct.
I am in front of a bullet proof window
pulling out the documents from my purse to check once again when the license
and registration of this acquaintance are enclosed in the small, clear plastic
folder with the navy blue back and out falls a roach. Yes, from one of my
previous smoking interludes. I do not make eye contact with the girl behind the
desk and am grateful that the officer has gone into the inner office to do some
official paperwork. If the young sandy blonde secretary sees it fall, she does
not let on. And I am grateful for the dismissal or the fat chance that she
really didn’t see it hit the floor. I brush it with my foot and it barely
moves, so I kick it once again to push it farther behind a large potted plant.
I am given a mandatory phone call and after
several rings, my friend, Tavaugh Singh, picks up the phone as I explain to him
about the document mix up. I am holding, for what seems like 15 minutes, while
he checks the top drawer of my dresser in search of what I will need to clear
myself.
Then the dream changes energy as I
run into an old friend who now has a television talk show and is extremely
successful. I ask her if she would like to get a drink with me and she begins
to wonder what might be available in this particular part of town. I then go on
to inform her that we can not only get a drink but we can get one dressed up
like a desert with whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and a cherry on top.
But the surprising part of the dream is
the “missing face” of the Korean man who lights the hope in my heart with such
joy that no matter what happens, I am still able to find joy in the face of all
possible difficulties. Someone I have never seen and have never
met but am hopelessly in love with, nevertheless!
