HomeJune 29, 1997
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postcard from the beyondI dreamed I got a postcard from May Sarton last night. I also had a really detailed dream about Child and Family Services of Newport County where Nancy works, but the postcard from May Sarton was the one that haunted me when I woke up. The postcard was addressed to me, in May Sarton's handwriting, signed by her. The message wasn't entirely legible but part of it was "you're dead.." I don't know if that meant I was dead or she had written about something that happens when you're dead or something like that. When Sarton died, Nancy and I had joked that she'd be the first to publish journals of what it was like in heaven: "The lobster sandwiches in heaven are delicious and we had good talk" or something. I told Nancy about the dream and thought nothing more of it. She got beeped (she's on call this week) so I went out to get some coffee for both of us while she took the call. When I came back the new downstairs neighbor was out on the front steps smoking a cigarette and his Dalmatian, Daisy, was standing at the front door like she was working a lemonade stand. He joked that I'd brought the coffee for him and his wife and Dalmatian... I laughed. He said they were heading out to the beach. It was already really really hot and it was still early in the morning. We had breakfast at J. Elliott's, where we haven't been in a long time (we were miffed at J. Elliott because he was mean to Rodney's roommate or something ). The raisin challah bread French toast was superb. Nancy's portabella mushroom and cheese omelet was excellent too. There was a little boy celebrating his birthday at breakfast with the rest of his nuclear family. The wait staff sang happy birthday to him while he grooved on the music playing on his new bright green walkman. I wonder if he heard the birthday serenade. After breakfast, we decided it was too hot to do anything that wasn't air conditioned. A perfect day for the Brown Bookstore's 20% off sale. We browsed for hours. I was wandering through the biography aisle when I spotted the new collection of May Sarton's letters, which I didn't even know was out yet. I sat down and read about 30 pages before I even told Nancy I'd found it. Then,while Nancy browsed I read some more. I had to buy it. I remembered the dream. Nancy, who hasn't got a newage, psychic, or mystical bone in her body suggested the postcard in the dream was telling me to buy the letters... |
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