I had a dream. No, I mean, last night, I had a real dream.
It was a nice sunny, warm day. I was in Manhattan walking along, crossing a street on the crosswalk that was full of people going both directions. There was another guy with me, but we weren't talking, and two more guys I knew, behind us. In hindsight, I think we were headed to a street side cafe for lunch and drinks.
As I approached midway crossing the street, I noticed two women walking toward me, completely oblivious of me, of everyone, deep in a conversation.
The one closest to me, was carrying nothing but articulating with her hands, her companion, perhaps a sister, was carrying something I can no longer remember, what it was.
They were both tall, platinum blondes with very long beautifully cut, straight hair, both model-like in look and bearing, but the one closest to me was very much more so, thinner than her companion, strikingly beautiful. She was wearing all white, with a gossamer thin shirt, open to her diaphragm.
As we approached one another, the one closest to me was saying something passionately to her companion and as she was moving he hands a slight breeze caught her shirt and billowed it slightly, clearly displaying to me her right bra-less breast, her nipple floating, there for only me to see. As I passed by her, so near to me that we almost touched, it nearly took my breath away. I took a breath, and a word fel out of my mouth.
"Damn," I said, in revery and awe of how beautiful that girl was. Immediately, behind the two women, were two other women, wearing darker, more business like clothes, the mass of people continued to move to the sidewalk of their original intent. Suddenly, those two women, who were behind the model like women, lost their conversation and stopped there, mid-street.
The woman closest to me, looked me directly in the face, people crossing with us, simply made their way around us, like a stream of water in a river, flowing around a boulder or two, allowing nothing to impede progress. Her companion looked at her, annoyed by the hindrance. She gave her a look of, "Let it go!". But the women didn't let it go.
"What was that?" she asked, "Why did you say that?"
"Excuse me?" I said.
"That word, what did you say? Why did you say that?"
"What?" I said, thinking about what she could mean, pulling my mind away from the model and her incredible visual that had burned into my mind. My friends were no innocuously huddled nearby, wondering what the issue was. "I said, 'Damn'," I said to her, confused, then realizing what might be happening.
I had offended a woman, but remarking at the beauty of another woman, directly in front of her, on the streets of New York. I had a premonition, I was about to get berated. But instead, she looked at the woman next to her and shared a look of, "I told you so." She looked back at me, her companion slightly, just barely, rolled her eyes, then looked at me, like she was embarrassed.
"And why, did you say,'Damn'?" she asked. About now, I could feel my friends enjoying my wriggling under scrutiny.
"Why?" I said, "Well, her nipple just jumped right out at me, her breast was just there for me to see. And, and--" I stammered.
"See?" she said, looking disconcertedly at me, then at her companion. "I told you so." And with that, they walked off. I looked at my friends and we got out of the street before the light changed.
Then, I was sitting in a booth with them, having drinks along the sidewalk, where we could still see that crosswalk. I tried not to think about the woman who had spoken to me, and instead about the blondes. I looked across at two of my friends, all wearing business suits, ties loosened, looking comfortable.
"But, that wasn't right," I said, "The nipple, yeah, her entire right breast, her torso, an inside look at her form, beautiful, definitely beautiful. But that wasn't what actually sticks in my mind, you know?" I was seated on the outside, a step away from standing up, and my friend on the other side, nearest to the street, looked at me and spoke.
"Her hair," he said, "what I remember now mostly, is how striking her hair was."
"Exactly," I replied, "Me, too. I was about to say that, when those women walked off, thinking, I suppose, that I was being a douchebag."
"Well, you were, right? I mean, we were." The guy directly across from me said. Then the guy seated next to me spoke up.
"So, what we all remember, is the women's hair, not so much their body, their sexual organs."
"Right," someone said.
"So," I spoke up, "That woman, he thought she was so right, was wrong, but only we have the end of this story. What we were really focused on, and even we didn't realize it till later.
"Ex-actly." The guy next to me said. The guy across from me picked up his drink and toasted, we all lifted out drinks to toast, waiting to hear what he would say.
"F*ck her," he said, "To beautiful women." We all acknowledged his toast and knocked glasses, smiling, drinking and then... the phone rang.
I mean, in the real world, my phone in the bedroom rang, waking me up. It was my friend, John, calling to thank me for the Christmas card I had sent him. Waking me up on the first day off of my two weeks vacation, the morning after I had watched some Johnny Depp pirate movie, and drank a growler of Hood Canal Brewery ale. Good stuff, but my head throbbed slightly and my dog wanted to go out, as I had slept in. The world was conspiring against my sleeping in, in peace and comfort.
I sat up, and could still see that beautiful, striking, blonde woman, as she crossed the street. Again I saw her shirt billow out from her torso and again, I saw her in her rarest form, and I noticed her hair as she drifted past me, and that beautiful hair, reflecting the sunlight, slowly faded from my mind.