Based on someone’s explicit advice, I’m standing in the street watching a video billboard. It’s an announcement, made by a public broadcaster like PBS. There’s a certain part I’m watching for — perhaps a part someone I know is in, or that I’m in. It’s weird watching a billboard on purpose though… and watching its video all the way through.
I get to visit the home of my old friend and roommate Emily W. It’s a long single-wide trailer sitting diagonally in the middle of the block, without any other homes nearby. She owns it outright (I feel an upwelling of pride even though we haven’t seen each other in a long time and didn’t part on great terms). I seem to remember dropping by at a pretty time of day with the sun low in the sky.
I arrive at an Indian council meeting. I sit at my spot at the long table fiddling with a promotional sticker left there near the placemat, trying to discreetly signal to my wife. I immediately interrupt the meeting doing this. The elder speaker/chairman is assertively aware and asks politely but directly if we need to go. I’m embarrassed but we actually do, of course. While leaving, I gather my clothes off the floor and stuff them in my large backpack. It’s my wife’s tall rucksack and well-accustomed to being forcibly stuffed with large volumes.
My wife has signed us up to do a delivery far south in the long desert valley where I grew up, all the way to Coachella near the shores of the Salton Sea. On the frigging bus. I have no illusions — I already know how bad an idea this is before we set off, but it’s just what we have to do. It’s a long, boring ride.
At some point I lose time. One moment it was a bit after 1pm; then I look and nighttime stars are outside.
But, my favorite part: there’s a girl seated next to me on bus seat who keeps bumping my hand. To my surprise I realize that it’s Alexx S., who I thought a lot about in Italy on account of her being half Italian. I’m unsure if my wife, seated on the other side of me on the seat, planned this somehow. I smirk and ask Alexx, “you think just because you’re my longtime childhood friend you can ignore customary boundaries?” We make out for a long time on the bus seat together, gently communicating through our tongues, learning about each other. I haven’t done that for the first time with someone in a long time. I’m uncharacteristically hesitant sometimes, perhaps second-guessing what I’m sharing about myself, or if I’m sharing it to my best ability. We’ve waited so long… I was friends with this girl and attracted to her in like 8th grade.
Watching on the map as bus passes down the coast of the Salton Sea, past where we were supposed to get off in Coachella. The bus comes back around, but now if we get off it might be going onward which means waiting on another bus (hopefully) in an hour. Several of us get off in the dusty isolated bus stop and beg the driver to stay there an hour, take his lunch earlier. Relying on the other bus is someone no once wants to do. I set off down a sparse desert town road trying to see if I can work something out.
The dream ends just like that, still in the middle of a story. A very active and bothered moment, a moment of annoyance and possible peril. We still have to deliver the package, after all. It’s a lot easier to remember the dream and piece everything together though, on account of all the sweet kissing.