The Dream Life
The dream life is living in New York, in Manhattan, in a high apartment – with white walls and white floors and black furniture and B&W photography and everything in the minimal and all this to set a classy yet modern atmosphere – living in this kind of apartment, overlooking the city, and sleeping in a bedroom with an East-facing window so that the sunrise, not an alarm clock, wakes me every morning.
The dream life is getting loose on a few fine drinks every night and waltzing stupidly around to full-volume Frank Sinatra music with a wineglass spilling sloppily as I do so and nobody to stop me and nobody to see me.
The dream life is falling asleep to a lover’s face every night and waking up to that same face and not being disgusted by their bed-breath because being in love changes everything, even the way their bed-breath smells.
The dream life is being famous and speaking to masses of people and making a difference in that speaking and being recognized for making that difference and squinting as the cameras flash.
The dream life is, every morning, drinking my coffee on the same bench in Central Park as the same people jog by while I read the newspaper that I write for as the crisp autumn breeze flows over my face and dried up orange and yellow leaves crinkle against the sidewalk as the wind carries them away.
The dream life is never running out of Burt’s Bees Cooling Peppermint Chapstick.
The dream life is dirty and materialistic and selfish, but oh how it appeals, and it’s everything I’m reaching for.
thats right! everyone wants a dream like that!
Fantastically and beautifully discriptive dream. Set your mind to your dream and it just might come true. Best of luck!
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