Dog Glasses
I was lined up inside a tastefully tiki-themed cafe waiting to order. A young child, appearing to be a 6 or 7 year old boy with golden mocha skin and glossy black hair sat alone, staring at me.
The child asked, “Why are your glasses like that?”
The glasses were odd. The Merlot-hued frames harboured perfectly round lenses that could be rearranged into any floating position: one eye exposed, one behind the lens. Better yet, both eyes exposed and lenses strewn anywhere between my ears and my forehead.
“Those are dog glasses.” The kid answered his own question.
He was right. They were actually intended for canine use, or rather, for the amusement of their keepers. I didn't care that they were dog glasses because I'm eccentric.
We laughed.
It was my turn to order. I leaned my head over the counter (which was nearly 5 feet high) and ordered a chai latte - a drink I hadn't enjoyed in years. The tiny greying woman behind the cafe counter had to move a potted plant in order to hear me. She leaned up and over the counter as well until we were inches apart.
Her proximity gave me plague anxiety. I tried futilely to hold my breath as I spoke, all the while fidgeting with my dog glasses and noticing that the small, inquisitive boy was already gone.
This was an interesting dream. I love to analyze mine and try to make sense of them.