Plus, I Live in New York

Last night, in my sleep, I went to work. But I couldn’t get there. The trip took me past my office and past a small airport, until I was incredibly late and didn’t know how to find my way. I stopped and asked directions.

“Oh, you just go this way, through Arizona, then you’ll hit this highway and this state…” etc., a kind woman told me. She wrote it all down.

I tried to follow the directions on my bike, but it was already getting dark, and I was even more lost than when I’d begun.

I realized, finally, that I could not get to work because every time I’d ever tried to go, I’d been lost. And how can you ever know the way if you never got it right?

On my real way to work this morning, I couldn’t help but get a little sentimental about the dream: How do you know which way to go in the world if you were never quite shown how to do it? I think it’s terribly self-pitying for me to say this, but I can’t help but feel like a child who wants to kick and scream until an adult takes my hand and takes me to school, I mean work.

Yeah, well, that never really happens, it seems. Maybe that’s the point. Yes, she says to herself, that is the point.