Drinking Champagne With Strangers

Rough Sketch of Alexander, 2010

A sizable dinner party at a restaurant with a brand new interior. The chairs were made of dark wood and red leather. Windows were lined horizontally across each wall, allowing every bit of moonlight to seep in. It took some time to realize why the champagne in my glass was not simply bubbling, but swaying.

We must have been casted out to sea during the last toast.

The men were dressed in tuxedos and represented several parts of the world. They spoke French, Italian, Bulgarian, Spanish, and Russian. I wore a black dress and boots that wrapped neatly around my ankles. I took a moment to look at my reflection in the window. There’s a small hat tilted sideways over my head. It looked like a cocoon covered in dusky netting.

I was a different woman. Brown skin tone and more mature. I could see the lines around my eyes. Approximately forty two years old.

A stranger came up behind me and placed his hand along my waist. I rationalized the bold gesture and smiled. He’d given the last toast and for a brief moment our eyes made contact. His name was Alexander.

“Will you be staying for a nightcap?” he asked.

“Brandy, please,” I said.

Everyone left except for a few dozen people who decided to start a poker game. As I spoke to Alexander the windows began to appear grimy. It was almost time to wake up or shift into another dream.

“I think I’ll be leaving soon,” I explained.

“One more before you go,” he said.

One last toast and I shifted. I thought about Alexander’s rugged features and wished I’d reverted to tactics that would have helped to keep me inside the dream. I would have doubtlessly indulged in my desires. I’d already imagined the entire episode. It ended with Alex’s disheveled tux draped over a chair, my dress on top of it and a bittersweet awakening.