Last night I dreamed of a place I have visited many times, but only in
my dreams. It is a lovely stretch of unpopulated coastland with broken cliffs
rising above the highway on the left and the unbroken sea sweeping to the blue,
eternal verges on the right. I was driving the car this time instead of my husband, and
I found the turn-off easily enough, but the ramp down to the glittering white
beach was closed because of construction. To be more exact: the ramp was
completely demolished and another one was being built in its place. To make
matters even worse, every approach to the beach below was under some kind of
renovation and was inaccessible.
So I bought a sack of doughnuts and strolled to an observation deck
where a host of thwarted sightseers had gathered to watch the sunset. My
husband brought his guitar and strummed a few tunes as I sang along. Many in
the crowd of sightseers joined in. This sudden fellowship might have assuaged
my disappointment at the loss of strolling the beach, if not for the group of raucous
teens sitting at an outdoor table in the restaurant that had been built in
front of the observation deck, obstructing most of the view.
Alas, progress has invaded my dreams and I find solace in doughnuts
waking or sleeping.
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