I woke exhausted

To my reader who asked if I dreamed, remembered dreams and were things detailed.

I woke exhausted and still hadn't made my flight to Italy. Ooops that was part of a dream. I wasn't going to Italy today. In the dream, I drove to the airport descending the hill from the Corsier Post. It was hard to drive, because the pedals were tiny little squares and I was wearing big clunky boots* which covered both the break and gas peddles.

Instead of turning left for the airport I turned right to stop at my college chum Maggie's ** house. It was huge with billowy white furnitue and windows all around. Her mother, who was chunky, wore the type of apron that the little Catalan ladies in Argeles wear and had short brown hair, came in interrupting us and leaving a publicity magazine on the counter top. Maggie was annoyed but didn't say anything.

As I turned around I heard a rip and my navy blue skirt *** had a tear, not in the seam, but in the fabric. I told Maggie I would buy a new one. In fact I would get an entire new wardrobe in Italy.

I realised I was running really late and still hadn't gotten any money and gave my daughter Llara who suddenly appeared a credit card so she could get a cash advance from a hotel near the airport and I would meet her there. Meanwhile I dumped all my clothes from my suitcase, which was a long navy blue bag with brown leather edging, the kind you take to play tennis or exercise in the gym, and Maggie helped me fill it with chocolate, not good Swiss chocalate but junk candy like Necco wafers and Smarties, but I thought how pretty all the wrappers looked.

I glanced at my watch 8 a.m. and the flight was due to leave at 9. I grabbed a shuttle (it appeared out of nowhere) and ended up at the hotel where my daughter was getting my money. I asked a Salvador Dali moustached bartender who was wiping glasses pointing to the right if he could call me a shuttle to get to the airport. He said it was already there. Llara hadn't had time to get the money, but I took the credit card and said it was okay, I could do it in Italy. It was now 8:10 as I ran for the shuttle I felt panicky that I would never make it through security in time for my flight.

It was at that point I woke, still panicking about making the flight and wondering what I was doing in my PJs all warm and toasty in bed.

Possible explanations for some of the details. For the rest, don't look to Freud or any other shrink. Chock it up to me.

*My new camera has tiny buttons that resembled the pedals and it is easy to push two at the same time.

**Maggie lives in the US. I have been meaning to write her. I have never met her mother

***The blue skirt was part of a suit bought in Maine in 1993 and retired in 2004. I did slit a black skirt the same way on a business trip in London.