I had one of those dreams that’s entertaining AND I remembered it. The dream starred one of my friends, so I emailed the story to her. The text of my email follows:
At first you told me about how, in a bored/creative mood one evening, you had created a pair of ankle boots out of chocolate. They were life-sized and turned out beautifully. In fact, you had revolutionized design of ankle boots and you felt people needed to know. (I had to admit, they were awesome shoes) Through some connections you had somehow managed to get to an invitation to an event the following day, where you planned to take your boots, hoping there might be fashion designers interested in the design of your fabulous shoes!
However, all hopes were dashed when you woke up and discovered that D had neglected to clean the bar in the house. And he had promised you he would clean up that night. It was a huge bar with a pool table and jukebox, with windows that looked out over the ocean, and apparently the place was a mess. (You took me to see it while you were telling the story, and I couldn’t really tell it was a mess – it looked pretty clean, but I took your word for it. And I didn’t even consider it odd that we had to go there for you to tell your story.)
In any case, D had ruined everything and you were mad at him because you felt you needed to stay home and clean the bar.
But before you began cleaning, we were hanging out somewhere in the city, at the beach, of course. It looked somewhat like Santa Barbara, with the sea on one side and a promenade running along it, and people scattered about under palm trees and grass on the other side, and rollerbladers zipping through. You had taken to carrying your dark chocolate ankle boots with you everywhere in a medium-sized shopping bag with colored tissue sticking out. While out and about, we found out that the event you missed (because of D, that scoundrel) was attended by none other than a famous shoe man, who actually went there looking for a new shoe design, and bought the design of someone else who had brought a model of an ankle boot! (sculpted of glass, of course. But thick cloudy glass like in bathroom glass bricks, and not nearly as elegant as yours). The designer praised the glass boots because they made “ankle boots feminine again,” and the story was all over the news. What a loss!
You felt like you had just missed your big chance in life! We found a TV displaying the glass boots and held up your chocolate boots next to the screen, and agreed your design was much more attractive and certainly more feminine. We took it for granted that the chocolate was holding up remarkably through all this, and not a trace of chocolate smudges on our fingers.
Then the TV showed a related news item, telling that word had gotten out about your chocolate shoes, and people were searching for you to take a look at them. Your iPhone rang and someone had found another fashion event for you, that you had to attend right away! We only had time to run to get there – thank goodness you were already carrying your shoes! Luckily, in some of the bags we were carrying were fresh clothes for the fashion event, so we changed while we ran down the walk, past the lounging beach people who didn’t realize you were going to be the next big thing in shoes! We were SO excited, and had one goal in mind: to get to that event!
As we were running, I heard the singing voice of Cat Stephens and a guitar, and realized he was one of the people in the grass. He was playing and singing, and had only about 6 people gathered, which was sad, because he’s awesome. I was thinking, Oh yeah, I heard he came back from being Yusuf and believing that he was not allowed to share his music with people for spiritual reasons. You kept running, but I turned back to shout a “HI omigosh! Love your music! Thanks for playing for us!” Cat Stephens looked liked a cross between a present day Bob Dylan and Keith Richards. In other words, scary rock star with shirt unbuttoned at the top, a white-man fro, shades, some gold chains and rings and stuff. It was not at all what I expected to see on Cat Stephens the Muslim dude. He looked excited to find out that someone recognized his music, so he switched to Peace Train real quick as a “You’re welcome.”
Then, realizing that – as much as I wanted to hang with the dude, maybe get an autograph – your fashion show was more important, I took off running again and tried to catch up with you. We looked back and saw that Cat Stephens had put his guitar down and was walking quickly after us, wanting to say hello. It was an unfortunate moment, because (remember we were running and changing clothes?) right then I had pulled off my wool eggshell sweater and was digging in a bag for a better top to wear. Actually sort of enjoying the breeze because the wool was hot! (I wonder if that’s when the heater kicked on in my house?) Seeing our pursuer, we squealed and ran faster so he wouldn’t see me in my bra. Sadly, leaving behind forever my chances to meet Cat Stephens.
We spotted the event building, luckily right there on the beach. It was actually Autzen Stadium, with the big Ducks “O” on the front of it. We were dressed, you had the chocolate shoes safely in your clutches, we were running up the hill beside the ocean with seagulls soaring and the warm sun…
… and the cat began scratching at the door to be let out. So, I got up for the day. Sorry honey, but I don’t know how it went with the shoes. I’d like to believe that your name became the new hot designer shoe label and you never had to work in a cubicle again.