Peter Hentges (jbru) wrote,
Peter Hentges

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Dreams and portents

I blame minnehaha's party and last week's MarsCon party for this dream:

I'm wandering Surdyk's liquor store and they are, as they were when I was stocking for MarsCon, doing construction for a remodeling. I'm looking for a special wine but not a specific type. I describe my needs to a Surdyk's manager who takes me off to a sales associate to get what I need. The manager has the distinctive limp of someone who has limited use of one leg and probably a prosthetic. The sales associate is a pleasant young man in overalls who takes me to the first option, a lovely riesling for about $5 a bottle. While we're opening a bottle to try out, a female patron asks if she can have a taste. We take another of the ingenious little tasting glasses out. She finishes the wine in mine while I pour myself another in the new glass.

The glasses are nesting crystal wedges that I'm sure I've seen somewhere. You can hold them like a normal white wine glass but they have not stem and an asymmetrical lip. When you set them down they, of course, tip to one side, but because of their clever design, do not spill the liquid within, becoming, instead something like a three-quarter covered saucer. The glasses in my dream hold three-quarters of an ounce as there is some legal restriction that allows Surdyk's to serve any amount of servings that size without a liquor license.

While tasting, another sales associate comes over to demonstrate a new product. It's a thin sheet of something that looks like those corn-starch packing peanuts. He rolls it up and slowly inserts it into the bottle explaining that you can take any bottle of wine you like, insert this product, re-cork it for three hours and, when you open it again, you now have a sparkling wine without altering the taste of the wine. So it was like making a champagne out of any bottle of wine you liked. (I blame the trick of putting grapes and a chunk of dry ice into a 2-liter soda bottle to make carbonated grapes for this invention.)

I try two more varieties of wine, moving up in price, including a Mexican wine with a label that looked suspiciously like Kahlua. I pick one out and buy three bottles to take to a party. Then I and some friends board our conveyance, some kind of open hay cart holding both bales and loose hay and drawn by a gypsy cab-looking kind of car. We are proceeding south into Minneapolis from some distance along a city street. The trees are green and the sun is warm. We open one of the bottles of wine and share it around, having a fun ol' time.

Traffic stops up and a number of flying machines come by. Biplanes, blimps, and I think a human-powered machine. All are skywriting or carrying banners advertising some festival that's going on. A blimp comes by fairly low and begins playing music. Everyone around us begins singing along. We join in, waving our hands over our heads in time to the song. The hay cart rocks side to side as our weight shifts with the waving. I lay back, smiling, looking up into the sky and enjoying the rocking of the cart as I wave my hands in time.

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