Monday, September 24, 2012

The Sartorialist

I had a dream last night. I was in a helicopter with three others chatting with the pilot just before take off in a small hilly town somewhere in Italy. Actually, we were passing around a glass of cognac, the pilot included, for encouragement. Being fully awake and thinking about it, it beats me why the best pilot in town would need any encouragement before take off, especially in the form of an alcoholic beverage. He would be fired for that right on the spot even in a dream. What's more, I do not drink cognac or anything like it. Anyway, it seems to me now that we also needed some encouragement because we wanted to meet The Sartorialist. We had been told earlier that he was hard to catch on location hence we hired the best and only pilot in town. Note: “the best and only” is a scary combination. “Only the best” would have been a better one. Luckily for us, the problem of how to pay for the ride or for the pilot did not present itself in that particular dream.

We were chatting happily, when suddenly a group of masked men burst into the helicopter, grabbed our pilot by the shoulder and dragged him away. I couldn't believe my eyes. I was just sitting there frozen. Note: Something is always frozen in my dreams. It's usually my movements. That group must have been hired by a rival group also wanting to meet The Sartorialist or they just simply wanted to ruin our plan. At that point we realized that our plan was indeed ruined. We climbed out of the helicopter and started to walk up on a street. Soon we reached a hillside and climbed up to a lookout point to enjoy the view.

Looking around, we noticed a narrow opening in the rock wall. There were some stone steps carved into the rock leading to a tunnel. We climbed the steps and found ourselves in a beautifully lit underground restaurant. There were just a few guests scattered around sitting by old-fashioned tables each with only two seats. They wouldn't care less about us. We approached a table and as soon as we sat down, a couple of waiters rushed out to great us. I told them that we were in trouble and could not pay. And then the headwaiter came out smiling and said that our dinner was ready and it was on the house. That's when I woke up. As it happens in dreams, I didn't get to eat anything. So I made myself a hearty breakfast and wolfed it down.

Update: I've just learnt that there is a place called  El Meson de la Cava in Dominica. I wish I could go there one day! It looks so much like the place I'd visited in my dream.

1 comment:

  1. Dreams are funny things. I go through periods where I have intense dreams every night for at least a month straight - I'm in the middle of one of those times now. At least it always gives you something to think about while you're enjoying that hearty breakfast! :)
    I know I owe you an e-mail ... but I am up to my ears in schoolwork. Particularly from the Hungarian professor who teaches digital librarianship here!