Saturday, February 27, 2016


I dreamed an old chef I worked with and I were going to cook at a restaurant he had built. His name is Paul, and I just found him on Facebook a few months back. We had only worked together for a few months back in 1977. He was a really cool guy, a few years older than I, and a Vietnam vet. That summer of 1977, I would go over to his place to play chess, and smoke pot. More than that, it was his ping pong table that Chavonne (my blind girlfriend) and I would go play on before she died. I always looked up to Paul, and wondered where he was all these years.

This restaurant was at the top of a mountain. Paul scrambled right up, but me, I’m scared of heights, and not in good enough shape to climb a mountain. Paul kept calling me to come on. He would stop and look back and I would look at how steep and high the mountain was. I kept telling him I couldn’t make it. Then I woke up.

I woke up, but just for a second. I closed my eyes and quickly fell back asleep. The dream restarted and found I’d made it up the mountain. We were standing in the kitchen. The kitchen was full of windows. You could see the valley's below, and a tiny city of lights, and all the other mountains all around, golden, purple and green. 

Paul said “See, you made it!” 
I said “There is only one way for me to make it up here, and that’s to dream it. I must be dreaming.” 
Then we made blackberry cobblers. 
I told Paul about this dream and he said for all that trouble we should have made more than just cobblers.

But like I told Paul, I think the dream was more about the view, and the fact that he lives up in Tahoe, and one day soon I'll be going to see him.

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