Two nights ago, I had a dream about Roger Federer. In the dream, I was at a hotel with my parents and my husband and Mirka. We were all sitting at this lovely table, one of those high tables that have cushiony barstools around it, a bar table, where food is often eaten, too. I was sitting with them, but I was a little anxious. I had to go meet Roger, but I knew Mirka wouldn't like that. It was this unsaid energy between us. I can't say if for certain they were broken up, but it was this tense vibe thing. Otherwise, the mood at the table was great. The lighting was soft, there were glasses on the table, music was playing, laughter sounded, but not too loudly. I couldn't wait any longer. I excused myself.
Excitedly, I went to where I was supposed to meet Roger, which was in the lobby/TV room. I had made him wait for me for some time and I was feeling anxious and a bit ashamed. I hate making people wait and rarely do (but hey, it's a dream.) And I come into the TV room and there is Roger, sitting by himself on this long bench-like couch. Other people were in the room, minding their own business.
"Hi Roger," I say and he looked at me while I approached.
He looked a little impatient, but who could blame him. I went to sit down next to him, feeling all sorts of things; excitement, because hey, even though I mostly lust after the Spanish and the Argentine, Roger's hot, and worry about Mirka hating my guts, and stuff like that. (Oddly, there were no emotions of worry regarding my husband. Go figure.)
And then I woke up. It wasn't quite light out and I was only half awake. I was sleeping in my favorite bed, in the country side of upstate New York. I thought, Roger wouldn't be alone waiting for me. He'd have been mobbed by other people! He's famous. And that's when I realized it was a dream. In other words, it took a second for me to realize it was just a dream.
I like dreams. I like the idea that they mean something, like Freud and Jung thought. I think this dream means that Roger is going to have a grand slam this year. I think that because once I had a dream that Kurt Cobain kissed me- it was so real, so sweet. I was living on Mulberry street at the time. I woke up and said to my boyfriend, I had a dream that Kurt Cobain kissed me. And then when we left the apartment that morning, we discovered that he had blown his brains out. Kurt Cobain had kissed me good-by. And that is why I think that Roger is going to win the Grand Slam.