Wednesday, July 25, 2012
It could be a play.
It's not often that I wake myself up, laughing, at a dream that I have had.
Like all dreams, I was me but I wasn't. Zeus was Zeus but instead he was a well heeled, debonair, New York, Jewish boy, from the 1930s.
I was his girlfriend and neither of us or our group of friends were under the age of 30. We were well dressed, well educated, probably thought of ourselves as intellectuals since we liked to gather at a trendy saloon on the lower East Side and spend hours discussing everything and nothing.
At such a gathering, I had apparently just arrived in town and Zeus handed me a set of keys and told me to take myself and my luggage over to his home, somewhere on the upper, upper East Side.
I arrived, by cab, at the address to find, a gorgeous Art Deco apartment building, a doorman and finally a rather large, bright lovely apartment.
Zeus had mentioned as he handed me the keys that his mother lived with him and had recently had heart surgery and would be arriving home soon.
Make yourself comfortable he said.
I was making a cup of tea when I heard the apartment door open and a flurry of woman's voices. I went to the foyer and this small (looking a lot like Ruth Gordon) woman said, " I'm back, the place looks great."
She reached in her purse, pulled out a wad of bills and apparently thinking I was a housekeeper or maid, pushes them in my hands.
I looked at her stunned, then slowly put the money on the credenza, looked her in the eyes and said,
"I'm not here for the money, I'm here for your son." and I walked out the apartment door.
Mother Zeus clutched her chest let out a heart wrenching gasp ( along the lines of George Jefferson clutching his chest and saying, It's the Big One!)
:)Bea, who apparently has been watching way to many 1930s type films.
Photo of Zeus's Aunt Karma from the 30s.
Posted by Bea