Turn Five

It was a dream that brought me here, and a dream that’s convinced me to stay.  Sometimes there’s no more than an occasional blast of lightning in the middle of the darkest forest on the darkest night.  It’s just enough illumination to tell you that you’re on the way, but not enough to know where it’s going.  There’s just a hint in you that this is the right thing, and it’s matched by a few fleeting signs.  Some are enough to remain convinced, and this particular flash of lightning was a dream where there was a woman with fire in her tongue, and her hands were open, revealing a small scar between the finger and the thumb on the left hand.

I’ve spent the entire trip, then, just following signs, moving here and there throughout the city, wondering what might happen if I decide to act on a sense of direction that seems to be always shifting.  But there are plenty of moments that also tell me this is leading somewhere, and that’s the case today.  This Italian restaurant is one of those dream places at the edges of the world, where you can apparently, have anything you want.  The food is splendid and there’s something to go on every part of the tongue, and in unusual combination, along with coffees and liqueurs.

As I’m eating, there’s a very strange sense that time is starting to spin in all directions, and I’m not sure why this is happening, or even if it’s important.  But there’s a sense that time is spinning backwards and now forwards, and suddenly it slows.  There is a moment when I am sitting, and my mouth is full of salt and sweet.  The table next to me is moving.  A woman coughing.  She holds up her hand to stop the waiter.  She is not choking.  Her mouth is burning from a pepper.  She is fine.  She holds her hand to stop him.  She has a scar between her thumb and finger.  It is on her right hand, however.  This might not be her.  I better check.

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