It was a bit chilly in the early morning and I pulled on my sweater and gloves. I headed to a cafe. On my way there, I found a one-yen coin – a Japanese version of a penny on the ground. I made an enough effort to take off my gloves, squat, and when my fingers were just about touching the coin, I realized it was a discarded battery. On my way back home, I found a coin on the ground again. I made the same effort again, and when my fingers were just about touching the coin, I realized it was the very same discarded battery I had tried on my way to the cafe. I still can’t believe I fell for the same trap twice…
At the cafe I wrote about yesterday, I ordered two American coffees and a German Dog. The clerk repeated my order “Two Blend coffees and a Lettuce Dog.“ I am a Japanese native and so is he. What’s wrong with my Japanese!?
After work, I dined out. I haven’t done that as often as I used to, because restaurants are filled with noisy kids and housewives. Kids are my regular enemies. Today, the place was empty as it had just opened for the day. But as the time went on, more and more kids came in, and soon I got besieged by them. Only move I could take was to retreat, as usual. I sincerely wish kids-free environment would prevail someday…
Once a month, the pizza delivery store has half off prices for takeouts. Today was the half off day. As a pizza lover, I have counted down to this day since last month. A typhoon hit the area I live in, on the very day of the half off, and swept away a pizza. Sigh…
Quite often, low pressure gives me a headache. The typhoon, which hit here this morning, brought me an excruciating headache. My partner suggests that I got punished for lingering on the half-off priced pizza I missed yesterday. Could it be? To avoid such accusation, I need to make my head low pressure-resistant…
The typhoon did more harm to me than a headache. TV is out. It robbed me of three comedy shows, one episode of ‘Prison Break’, one ‘Columbo’, and a financial news show. I wonder when it comes back on…
I complained to the super and TV is back on after 36 hours. It seems that I am the only one who watches TV in this building. One of my hobbies is to collect TV dramas and comedy shows on DVDs or HDD. I have recorded religiously every single episode of ‘Prison Break’ for years now. Its final season is now on air once a week in my area, and I missed an episode because of the typhoon. Although the goal was right there, my collection is incomplete lacking one episode. Can you imagine how annoying it is for a collector? Gahhhhh!
On the morning of a day off, I had a long, relaxed breakfast with my partner at home. He told me that he had just seen an interesting dream the previous night. His “interesting” dreams usually bore me, but I reluctantly agreed to hear it out of habit.
In his dream, it was my birthday. We had a party by ourselves in a fictional shabby apartment with half-price deli foods from the clearance shelves of a supermarket. A leftover of three-day-old dessert was converted into my birthday cake and waiting on the kitchen counter. A door bell rang although we didn’t invite anyone and nobody was supposed to come.
My partner opened the door and two Japanese couples showed up. Each couple was fictional, rich old friends of mine in the dream. They were prim in luxury brand clothes and bringing expensive sweets as gifts. They had apparently expected a glamorous home party in a gorgeous apartment. At the sight of them, I shouted to my partner, “Let them in and keep company!” and stormed into my room for a change and makeup because I was wearing worn-out clothes and no makeup. My characteristic wasn’t fictional and I was a vain person even in his dream. He showed them into the living room. They looked disappointed and regretful that they came to where they didn’t belong while he hurriedly cleared the table and fixed drinks for them. Then, there was the second door bell.
This time, a modest woman was standing at the foot of the stairs that led to the outside of the building. She had something handmade as a gift and looked up nervously. “Another guest showed up!” my partner yelled toward me. I rushed out, ran down the stairs, tripped, and dived into a big puddle beside the woman. He saw me sprawling in mud, with my best dress ruined and red and blue from my makeup spread on the surface of muddy water. This part of his dream was familiar to me. In reality, about a month ago, I was walking with my partner looking upward somehow and fell over a big rock. I landed onto hard asphalt and hit my cheek. My palms got grazed badly and covered with blood. That clumsily shocking sight must have remained in his brain.
At this point of his dream, he was resigned to a ruined birthday and his motivation gave out. He went back inside and said to the couples of preceding visitors, “Hidemi dived into a puddle. Would you mind leaving now?” They seemed relieved to be released from a wretched place like this and hurried away.
Just after they had left, strangers appeared one after another. An American man with a camera, a Chinese family and a group of Southeast Asian women came in, all asking “Is this Hidemi’s apartment?” They were looking around curiously and taking photographs. Other people of various races kept coming and the apartment that began to expand was packed with them. He saw more people from the world heading toward my apartment. He became worried that everyone would be disappointed at this place that had nothing to see, nothing interesting. On the contrary, all of those who came seemed content, talking each other at ease or just sitting in a relaxed mood. Looking at them, he realized that what people seek was healing. And he woke up.
Little by little, the number of people around the world who visit my website has been growing since last year. Some visitors leave a comment or a like, some follow me. Those kind actions may have contributed to his dream.
In the meantime, I also had a dream on the same night. I was with Will Smith and a world-famous dancer in my apartment. A box was delivered for me, that was a secret award for the most distinguished person of each fields. Both Will and the dancer had received it before. “You got it!”, they exclaimed. I opened the box excitedly, and there came out a pink hippopotamus headgear. I put it onto my head with profound reverence, felt a sense of achievement, and woke up. In Japanese, ‘hippopotamus’ means ‘Kaba’. If you read it backwards, it is pronounced ‘Baka’, which means ‘fool’ in English.