David Rhoden

Dreamed I had some tasks to do in Paris, France.

. Day .

Dreamed I went to Paris with my mother, brother, and sister. Whe we got there we were supposed to go pick up a rental bike my mom had reserved. The place was crazy, totally packed. The staff were rude. "We don't have any bikes. You'll have to buy one." Not wanting to make a permanent purchase, we asked about other alternatives. Someone suggested a Swift truck. These were small blue truck-trikes, very French. (Understand: basically a Cushman.) But we couldn't rent one of those either. The rental office was also a cafe, and an American man with a curly mustache and an Alpine-style hat called up over.

"You know about Woodside, Queens?" he asked. I said yes.
"Well go to the Paris equivalent of Woodside, Queens and there's plenty of lots that will sell you a Swift truck for next to nothing." So we started walking.

The Paris of my dreams was hilly and criss-crossed by canals, like Venice, and festooned with neon and light-up plastic signage, sort of like Tokyo. It was really interesting. At cocktail hour, we got pulled into another cafe where my friend Arthur was hanging out with his Oberlin friends. He made us come in and hang out, and gave me a sandwich of fried baloney and a scrambled egg on an english muffin.