It's a few days before Easter, I'm visiting my father, in the ghetto, his house-not-his-house, old, I see my daughter off on the bus and yell out my love, I'll see her in a few days...
He's annoyed at my yelling after her, we argue, he's angry, I tell him I'll damn well do as I please with my kid...
...Inside, the house is old, big, the carpet is worn out, trying to find a bedroom to set my stuff...I find it, there's a slushy pile of snow at the door to it, inside, ...
...there's lots of people here, people from the hood, younger girls, men, they stay here, on the stoop, drinking, one of the girls has an apron in which she's got a bottle of mint flavored vodka, I'm disgusted, go to my room, by good fortune find a small micky I didn't finish, congratulate my luck (when does that happen?), pour myself a drink...
...all these bedrooms, they're filled with people I don't know from the hood....my dad tells me he bought the restaurant, - THE RESTAURANT - and I can expect that while I'm staying here - there won't be any more closing or napping in the afternoon...it'll be open all day...until 1:30 in the morning...12 hours, 14 a day, I'm not happy with this, more words...
He's not so happy, I don't know why he bought the restaurant, he knows nothing about the business...there is a small, slender Asian woman there, she has some interest in the restaurant...
My bedroom, too bright light, stuff messy upon the dresser. I finish my vodka, am a little bit drunk...
...I go out, into the street, watch, there's a short parade, it's late, maybe 10 PM, still light out, I walk past all the street people who live here on the stoop, inside, walking the hood...there's a car, driving in circles, no driver, it's not going too fast...I jump in, try to stop it...pull the gear shift and it comes off in my hand, 4 big guys come around the corner, young, chasing it, together we stop it, push it up against a wall...I laugh, tell them that's what to expect with Yugo's (the make of the car...), they laugh, speak with thick Russian accents, tell me they're Russian and ask me if I'm OK with that, I am, I assure them...
Onward, there are markets in the street, it's a beautiful day, lots is for sale, curious, everything open at Easter...I find what I need...some linen, fine ivory and cream floral patterned tablecloths, 5 of them, have them wrapped up...
...another car, no driver, runaway, aimlessly driving in circles on the road...
...walking home I recognize Uncle P** - the ignored side of the family, walking with Uncle J**, then others of my cousins and uncles passing, it's a reunion of sorts, no, one of the heavily bearded, short, red-headed cousins, I don't remember his name, he got married, they don't recognize me, I'm surprised, I didn't know...
...it's raining now, garage sales have folded, there's stuff getting wet on the street, soaked, marked "sold" - to be picked up later, but now it's spoiled, a deflated basket ball, other rubbish,...
I get home, some of the cousin's are there, somebody - one I recognize, has given me a metal detector, a good one, left it on my dresser, there are now sleeping bags on the bedroom floor, with the family reunion and all the strangers on the stoop it looks like I'll be sharing the bedroom, talking to Dad - he's in a better mood, the restaurant, it's not doing so well, he's concerned...his Asian friend or partner, she's telling me I should have bought her some chopsticks or something to celebrate the opening of the restaurant...
***(Discombobulating, strange, weird...not a good dream, but curious)
A Sunday night, working at the restaurant-not-the-restaurant, back, they asked me to work a day, the nephew, the new Chinese owners made it into Italian again, a busy night, everything is rearranged, different, and I can't seem to get it together, we're busy, large tables, walk-ins, there's the nephew, busy, a short Chinese waitress, the owner, a tall thin man who says nothing, does nothing, everything I touch is breaking, the glasses - long flutes, delicate, slender stems, holding 8 in my hand but if they move even the tiniest bit they shatter, walk-ins of 10 people telling us they have reservations, coming back later, an early rush...
...I make it through the night, the nephew tells me I can't return, I have to work here until Thursday, 4 more days, and I don't think I can do it...
***(the dreams didn't improve over the course of the evening, but the theme remained consistent...So it goes...)