Posted by: normanlgreen | May 22, 2012

Dream, May 22, 2012 hosting the team


Dream, home, 6:10 am

We are to host a group of Australians. Eight men and women of various ages are to stay across the weekend as they participate in a sports competition.

Sherwin and I put sheets on mattresses on the floor of a disused school’s second story. Our guests arrive as we prepare for them. One woman says, β€œIt’s very nice now, it always does, but come Monday, it will be a mess.” I am unsure whether she suggests that they are messy or that the thrown-together accommodations will not hold up to any usage.

We all go down stairs for an elaborate meal that Sherwin has prepared. The guests are highly complimentary of the dinner. I know that Sherwin, who has left the room, should hear their praise. Two men in their 20s wear big mutton-chop sideburns. They have taken over the preparation of drinks. They have mixed up a strange sangria with red wine and strawberries. The rims of the glasses are crusted with a quarter-inch of course salt. Everyone talks at once, so I figure no one will notice if I slip upstairs to find Sherwin and to make a phone call.

Up in the improvised dorm, dividing walls have appeared, so the couple having a conversation do not know that I am present. They whisper. I cloud my mind to block out the details of their private talk, but their voices go up and down with urgency without much dynamics of volume. The man in the conversation has customized the telephone, bringing in old fax machines and a putty colored table top phone from the 1980s or older. As I try to use it, the cobbled-together phone-thing comes to pieces. The international operator’s voice drops out then returns, then drops out again. I reach inside the big box and jiggle wires hoping to reestablish the connection – hoping that I am not running up a huge bill while the operator waits on the other end.

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