I had another odd dream last night or this morning, one of the more vivid ones I’ve had in awhile.  I was visiting the home of some people I’ve known for years.  One of their acquaintances used to work for me, as well.  I was preparing to leave when the guy asked me to pose for a photographic portrait.  Though I really needed to go, I agreed.  I sat on a round stool he provided and he pointed his camera at me, but suddenly the stool sank a foot or two, as if the stool’s post were vacuum-controlled.  He laughed, along with everyone else, and said it would be just a moment.  The stool was adjusted, remotely, by some other man, who had a French accent and wore a pencil-thin mustache.

A series of similar situations arose, in which he was poised to take the photo, but some oddity occurred to bring the process back to square one, involving much more preparation. Each time, the same man with the pencil-thin mustache was involved, but his accent was different each time; Spanish, Russian, Italian…and some others I couldn’t identify. After a few times, it became evident to me that they were delaying the process on purpose and the guy’s wife was in on the scheme.  And it became apparent that their acquaintance, the woman who used to work for me, was becoming upset, as well.  She finally turned to leave and said to me, with a sense of annoyance and frustration in her voice, “come by when you get out of here.” The others seemed embarrassed by her comment; their faces flushed red and they turned their heads toward the ground.

When I finally decided to stop playing the game and turned to leave, the guy’s wife apologized that they were unable to get the portrait done and asked me to return another time.  She handed me a tin of clams and hugged me as I left.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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