I’m in Seattle.
There’s an Illy coffee sign, a big red cube rotating on top of a pole at an intersection. I consider how Illy has become an international brand.
I’m in a diner. The person I’m with tells me a story about an asian restaurant with food so spicy that the owner gave him direction to the toilets, in case the food was too hot. But my friend hardly broke a sweat while eating it.
I’m about to tell him my usual story of how my tolerance for spicy food has increased over the years.
Then the 6:15am alarm goes off.
I wonder where this story came from. I mean, I know I imagined it, but it’s not as obvious as other times what memories triggered this fantasies. This didn’t look at all as the Seattle I remember, I don’t recall seeing the Illy cube sign, I literally don’t understand the food/toilet reference…
I now wonder how much of this story I actually dreamed, and how much of it I made up while trying to remember the dream for the last hour, and then writing it down, adding thin layers of details, turning fantasies into memories.
Oh well, time to get to work… unless I wake up.
Or you do.