Vindaloo Philm-Wallah

The Party (Dream)

In our apartment, that looks nothing like our real one, my Lady and I are hosting a small party. Five to six revelers have followed us from our evening out and are making merry. Everyone except my Lady has a drink in their hand and the music is getting loud. More people are coming through the front door, which I can see from a mattress on the floor at the other end of the room, near the balcony. I know this is getting a little out of hand. A loud knock comes at the door, barely heard over the music. I know exactly who it is, my downstairs neighbor and owner of the apt. bldg. I step outside in the hallway and explain that we will quiet things down and we apologize. I go on to state that this is a one-off and we have never hosted a party before. She is understanding to a point acknowledging that this is not in keeping with our character and goes across the hall back into her apt.

I reenter our apt and sit down on the mattress across the room. mL is beside me as we enjoy the party. Even though the noise has dulled, the antics are still throbbing. More people keep entering, just like one of those high school parties when someone’s parents would go out of town. One woman comes in and makes a beeline to the mattress and begins disrobing. She jumps over me to my right and lays back. She drags me down to her for a snog. I don’t know this person and mL is right beside me. I’m sure she’s not going to like this! On the contrary, with vim and vinegar, mL is stripping off as well! She lays down on my left side. Somehow in this antic, dreamy situation, even though the room is full of clothed people, I also have become naked. mL guides me down for a smooch as well which I oblige. My right hand is taken and placed on the breast of the woman on my right…

A ruckus is heard outside and quickly becoming dressed I follow the people out the door which no longer leads to the hallway but straight outside and down a hill. It’s a warm evening and following the people down the hill I look back and see our dwelling is now a lovely house on the hill, looking regal in an olden kind of way beside a full moon and a bright purple-blue sky. I bump into an African-American lady in big glasses and ask about the fuss. She is very friendly and chats but doesn’t address the question. Beside me appears my landlord again. I explain that whatever happened out here got everyone out of the house, so it should be quiet from here on in. She is a sport and I am grateful that we didn’t tax her patience too badly. As she turns to go back to her apt. she asks a favor. She asks if she could get three things; a tiny key to a lock that secures a storm cellar on the side of the house, pretty much used only for storage and a vintage sepia picture of the apartment taken from the street I keep in a manila folder; the third thing she didn’t tell me. I have to remember where these items are located, which I do. They are on an old work desk next to some old pieces of wood and jars of nails. I go to fetch these items and when I return, she must have gone back to her apartment...

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