Thursday, August 8, 2013
I'm attending some kind of self-help seminar, and have established a rapport with the facilitator. In the course of a process in which others are engaged, I feel free to excuse myself with a mouthed "I'll be back," to which the leader responds with an understanding nod. The reason for my leaving, it seems, is my need to take a run. In steady rain, I start up the slope of a long, steep hill, surrounded by residences and with numerous cross-streets on the ascent. Traffic is light, however, and my run is uninterrupted--though I worry about slipping on the wet surface of the sidewalk. By the time I reach the top of the hill, with surprising ease, the rain has stopped. I find myself confronted by two dark pools of water, very still, with light reflected off the surface... Running back down the hill, I wonder if I should stop for a shower at the house where Ellie and I live--which is not our house--a couple of blocks downhill from the seminar site; or whether to return to the seminar sweaty from the run. By the time the dream ends, I have not yet reached a decision on this important matter.