I wore a big floppy straw hat, a hippy skirt, and was barefoot.
Barefoot!
I told Fred he needed to take me back to wherever my shoes were. Nah. He plowed ahead and lost me in the crowd.
I figured I'd call him on his cell phone and state my imperative to go get my shoes. No luck.
So I just stood somewhere or another, trying to not step on anything sharp.
Woke up to the smell of cake baking.
Aren't dreams nice that they can provide such insight into our lives? I did go with another friend and Fred to a big rally downtown in Asheville, several years ago ...which planted the seed for the dream.
I hope I find out whoever was baking the cake. And except for football stadiums, I used to go barefoot lots of places where grass grew.
