Dreamlandhattan

Mike Zareno led me, along with 2 other folks I didn’t recognize into Jay’s apartment. My assumption? We were packing up his place after his death. These twilight zone dreams don’t have instructions; I generally go with my gut.

I was back in Manhattan, the Murray Hill days to be specific, and I was with two strangers, picking at Jay’s things, the way one would browse at a thrift shop. Items in the apartment were tossed about. The furniture was particularly tacky, certainly not Jay-like. There was a long couch in the living room with a U shape design and a specially made U bright leather top. It was cringe-worthy. I grabbed it and easily removed the cushion top, and tossed it aside.

Looking around the studio apartment, there were more pictures than memory serves. Jay would showcase a few pictures, in little frames and many in photo books (before digital), but his apartment had photos everywhere in this fantasy. I looked over at some of them; I was in a bunch. I was young, in a few of the shots and much older in others. Also, the images would come to life within the frame when you touched it. It was like watching a little video. This effect was used quite a bit in the Harry Potter movies.

My eyes caught up with a book on the floor: The Reporters Handbook. “How is this here, ” I said to no one in particular. It was my copy. I made a point to leave it where I can grab it on the way out. It was a book that called out to my journalism loving days.

Suddenly, a bunch of guys came in through the window. They were here for
the furniture. I adjusted my face mask (yup, the COVID stuff is in the dreams now) and got out of the way. That’s when I noticed the book was gone. Damn, I thought and started looking for it, knowing fully that I no longer needed to have it around.

Upon waking and having a sufficient amount of coffee, I went downstairs to the attic room. Garry likes calling it my man cave. I see it as a replica of my old North Beach studio apartment. I went to the bookcase. It’s not there. I have a few reference books at the side of my desk, and that’s where I found my Reporter’s Handbook. I flipped through the pages about investigating politicians. I can get on with the day. 🙂

Note: Mike Zareno was our landlord in Murray Hill, who passed before Jay did. I lived in the same small low rise building in Murray Hill. This time was part of my roaring twenties.