Wednesday, October 08, 2003
The rain was refreshing for the most part, a slight breeze in the early fall, early morning shower. I parked the car right next to the coffeeshop - not too many folks have time to stop at Starbucks on wet mornings like this, so it already wasn't a typical-getting-overcrowded kind of Wednesday morning. Walked into the atmosphere of caffeine and steamed milk, ordered a hot chai tea - dare to be different, I say - and waited. And watched people. One man was reading the morning paper, nestled into one of the big fluffy chairs in the corner. Another older gentleman was looking at the display of mugs and holiday household coffee stuff on the shelves on the wall. A young mother and her daughter were ordering coffee and talking about Elmo. One lady was sitting at one of the small round tables, sipping her latte, looking over her notes and to-do-list for the day.
I sat outside, something I don't enjoy in the humidity and heat of August around here. But this morning it was really rather pleasant on this damp, moist day in October. I pulled out my book and began to read, looking up every now and again to see if my friend was pulling up or not. I read about how we all long to wake up from the dream, how we aren't safe anymore, how we dream about things and never move on those dreams until something stirs us up, or stirs up the things around us. Dorothy and Toto had dreams they couldn't imagine actually living out, and then a tornado threw the house over the rainbow and everything went Technicolor. Tornados wake us up from the dream, from the self-opposing nap we've allowed ourselves to be lulled into. Bright colors wake us up from the drab black/white/grey day-to-day. But which is the dream - the color, or the colorless?
I still had to drive into work, getting to the parking lot a couple of minutes late. Checking email this morning, there's a message from a cross-country friend, an old quote of mine from high school that's ringing through his head and making him laugh: "Some people are nuts, and some people are bolts. No matter who you are, one day we all get screwed." For some reason, it comforts me to think that we really did know everything in high school.