Two Hundred and Seventy Five

I had another dream last night.

In it I'm young, and starting my first job, as an apprentice.  My boss tells me to go to one of our vendors and pick up an order.  He assumes I know the way, but I've never been downtown before.  Reluctant to admit that I don’t know the way, I ask another employee—a older woman who's been friendly to me—for directions.  She offers to come with me and show me the way.

We get in my car.  But instead of giving me directions, she puts her hand on my knee.

I realize she thought I had invented the story of not knowing the way as an excuse to be alone with her.  I apologize for misleading her, but she refuses to believe it was unintentional. 

Then the scene changes. 

The pandemic seems finally under control.  The opera house has re-opened, so I drive downtown to buy tickets.  But it’s been so long since I’ve been downtown that I don't remember the way.

I see a well-dressed distinguished-looking older man walking down the street.  I pull over and ask him if he can direct me to the opera house.  He offers to come with me and show me the way.

He gets into my car and I drive off.  When we arrive at the opera house, he gets out of the car and goes inside with me.

I ask the ticket seller for a season’s brochure.  The man and I examine the brochure together.

I tell him I’m looking for an opera my wife would like.  He looks startled, as if I’d struck him.  I realize he's gay, and thought I was, too.  I apologize for misleading him, but he refuses to believe it was unintentional.