20230827 I don't remember the first dream very well. Cookie and I were at his family's cottage with his other family circles. One family cancelled because one of their members wwre infected with COVID-19.
I'd entered the main room where everyone was seated. To my surprise, the family with a COVID member was there, happily chatting away with everyone. I felt conflicted.
-----
Cookie and I were with his aunt and uncle. We were at a lobby with wooden panels as walls, and lighting was dim, as if it were a steakhouse or a sauna.
The Japanese hostess approached me. She was dressed in a pretty, red kimono with her hair tied in a neat ponytail. She asked if we would like to have dinner there. I looked at everyone else to see what they thought.
Cookie's uncle responds, “yes, sure. Let's have dinner here.”
“It will be $300 per person,” the hostess said.
I tried to add it up in my head, realizing it was dinner and a Kabuki show. I nervously wanted to change my mind because it was too expensive.
----- naptime
I went on a walk ny a pier with Cookie, Shortbread, my 4 year old nephew and his mom. He was running, misbehaving and tripped, breaking his ankle. Be he didn't cry. His mother was frantic, getting a splint and black electrical tape from her purse and wrapping her kid from head to toe as I sat aside and watched.
While I knelt by them, I thought it was ridiculous how she was wrapping him, but she has a recent First Aid certification. I also noticed I recognized the song the live band played from a stage looking down on us on this sunny day.
I bobbed my head, clapped my hands and raised a fist at the appropriate time to the song. It was “Harlem” by New Politics.
When the kid was ready, he and his mom wennt with emergency personnel, while Cookie, Shortbread and I agreed to walk to meet them somewhere. As I walked, a gust of wind blew a thin, lacy, burgundy dress with long sleeves and tangled it around my legs. I was about to let it continue blowing on its merry way until I saw the pricetag still attached - it was $1,353.00. I checked the label, and it was black, cursive letters on a beige background.
I decided to find the store it came from, and when we walked back a little, there wasn't a clothing store nearby.
“I guess I keep it,” I said, in awe of my luck.
