Dream

An old co-worker invites me to dinner at the Bonventure. I get in my car and go. When I arrive at the valet stand, three valets are waiting for me. I get out of the car and the three of them get in.

"It might take us a while," one of them says.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Come look," says another one.

I get back in the car, only now the interior of my car has become a house. A huge mid-century modern house with massive glass walls. I wonder why I never noticed this before. The house is full of boxes, like IKEA boxes of furniture that haven't been installed yet.

"I should have finished with the furniture," I tell them.

"Sometimes you need help," one of them says. They start breaking down the boxes, building the furniture. When they are done, the house is full of midcentury furniture, Le Corbusier daybeds and Barcelona chairs. I tip the valets extra and they leave. A few minutes later my mother walks in.

"You're late to dinner," she says.

"I know. The valets were building my furniture," I tell her, "I should have done it myself a long time ago."

"That's okay," she says, "Sometimes you need help. What were you doing all this time though?" she asks.

"Chasing things," I tell her.

"That's how it is," she says, "But now you know."

"Now I have the freedom to travel within and without. I am boundless, like my name," I tell her.

"That's maturity," she says, "Now you know that your happiness can't be diminished by externals."

"What if I forget?" I ask her.

"Then you can come back here. It was always here, in your car, this beautiful house. But you weren't looking at it properly."