California Dreamin'

I am here.

Last night, after a full day of city traipsing and sight-seeing, I ate this.

Why yes, that is Chinese hot mustard you see atop everything.

And this is what happened next:

I sat at the table nearest the entrance anxiously awaiting her arrival. As she approached, I thought it could be her, though she appeared certain it was me. She took the seat facing me and as she leaned forward for the menu, slid a post-it note with a list of names and (619) exchanges between my chest and the table's ledge. Appearing as nervous as I was, she-quite poorly- feigned discontent with the menu and promptly exited.

Upon closer inspection of the post it note, I caught a glimpse of the bag in my periphery: in it, sat one rather large tub of Hellmann's mayonnaise. In this operation, my mission was to alert the people on the list that the "dope" was securely in my possession. The plan is now in motion. My success however was soon to come to an abrupt halt.

Just as I reached for the bag, and my fingertips-having just clipped the nail on my index finger too closely- came within a loose thread's reach of the handle, Malik Yoba -Uh huh...yes, the one from NY Undercover- grabbed my forearm formidably-although some might say it was rather sexy. "Look over there", he says and points to the window on my right. Through the window, I see John Tuturro-Yep, that one- he leads a group of uniformed officers toward the diner. "They know, they're onto us". Malik-giggle- hands over a map, -which looks quite like the one I picked up at the front desk of the resort- and shows me to the rear exit. It is there I am met by the same person I'd just met; only now, she is a he. He is actually the son of an acquaintance.

Clearly DJ (the he who was moments ago a she, but is really the son of an acquaintance) knows the ropes of the town and the operation, and takes the lead. We're running for what seems like hours and while I know intuitively that we are being chased, I can neither hear nor see anyone other than us two. We amble through an obstacle course-like system of beams and scaffolds covered in shades of yellow, green and orange wet paint. Panting and beginning to lose speed-I have zero endurance z-e-r-o, had this not been a dream I'd have been indicted, convicted and sentenced by now-we exchange the histories' of our careers as dope (Hellmann's mayonnaise) smugglers. He concedes the reason for his involvement is exclusive: a means to support his family. As I begin to proffer my reasoning, I spot "J-Murk" (Jordan's nom de guerre) tagged on one of the beams, in that moment all of my fear and fatigue dissipates and I exclaim, "I'm going to kill him!" DJ laughs.


Still fleeing, -Okay, more like near death trotting-we arrive at what I believe to be the end of a successful escape. A sense of relief befalls me. My accomplice stops at the scaffold's edge and says, "You never did tell me why you joined". "Oh"... I reply, "I just wanted to try something new". DJ lets out a machiavellian roar of laughter, turns his back to me, says, "Here's your chance" and jumps. Looking over what appears to be about 4 stories. Yes, about the height of the room I am currently occupying. I look over, pause in fear, pace anxiously, close my eyes and jump. With Crouching Tiger-like choreographic precision, I land atop the China Too: New York Style Chinese Cuisine restaurant and am immediately awakened by the pain in the wrist I'd been sleeping on.

The end of story ass-kicker:

As I slept, Joe busied himself by watching Netflix on the laptop. When I woke this morning-for the third and final time: I had to jot this dream on a paper towel at 4:00 am-, I asked him what he watched, "NOVA: What Are Dreams", he said. Wide-eyed stare.

Peace