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dreamed about the other Arthur
It was "old" Arthur in my dreams last night, though I guess he's younger (presuming he's still alive) than new Arthur. We waited in a long line going up the wooden ramp to what was supposed to be a Treasure-Mart-style junk shop (with, I guess, limited hours a la the local Kiwanis). A guy at the back of the line with us realized it was going to rain and that he'd left his car windows open. We could see Arthur's little beat-up badly repainted (blue on top of red?) car, its windows open, too---I think we just laughed. (I do remember a couple of funny stories about this Arthur and cars.)
Later in line we talked to a woman, who seemed taken with Arthur. At least she seemed that way when we got inside, where it turned out we were in an old theater, getting ready to take in an opera. As A. lagged behind (maybe getting tickets torn?), she wondered aloud to me whether Arthur had been in any Neil Simon plays, since he had something-or-another (made some reference to Neil Simon?). I said he used to write classical music reviews for the Washington Post (he did).
Then Arthur and I headed down one of two long aisles. We got a good twenty rows back, and I was wondering what kind of seats we had. We were in the (not terribly wide itself) center section, and just as we got to our row the seats there became wider, and fewer to the row. It was like first-class airline seating in the middle of a buncha coach. And they were deep red leather-y vinyl-y stuff, vs. the cloth-y black of the others. He smiled when I saw them and we laughed and sat down.
Don't know what opera it was going to be. I woke up as we were still awaiting the curtain---feeling pretty content.
Perhaps I should think about looking up Arthur. I'm not quite due yet. Told him in 1984 that I expected to run into him in 30 years and have a great conversation.
Later in line we talked to a woman, who seemed taken with Arthur. At least she seemed that way when we got inside, where it turned out we were in an old theater, getting ready to take in an opera. As A. lagged behind (maybe getting tickets torn?), she wondered aloud to me whether Arthur had been in any Neil Simon plays, since he had something-or-another (made some reference to Neil Simon?). I said he used to write classical music reviews for the Washington Post (he did).
Then Arthur and I headed down one of two long aisles. We got a good twenty rows back, and I was wondering what kind of seats we had. We were in the (not terribly wide itself) center section, and just as we got to our row the seats there became wider, and fewer to the row. It was like first-class airline seating in the middle of a buncha coach. And they were deep red leather-y vinyl-y stuff, vs. the cloth-y black of the others. He smiled when I saw them and we laughed and sat down.
Don't know what opera it was going to be. I woke up as we were still awaiting the curtain---feeling pretty content.
Perhaps I should think about looking up Arthur. I'm not quite due yet. Told him in 1984 that I expected to run into him in 30 years and have a great conversation.
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Not much to go on, with that common last name, huh.
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But yeah, without more info there are just too damned many Arthur R. *****s out there.
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(Remember that time we went looking for his hitchhikin'-in-the-rain self?)
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Was that the evening he held my hand and then denied it later? The rainy drive to Assateague?
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T. sure was smitten with him.
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