Barcelona, Society, Baking, and Men.

Last night I dreamed about being back in Barcelona again. I don't remember how I ended up there, but I had all sorts of adventures as soon as I realized I was there. I often dream about BCN. It's where I had the happiest period of my life. No worries, much friendship...I just FLOWED. When I was sad, I was sad. When I was happy, I was happy. I didn't have to think about things. They just were.

So I do. I dream about BCN. There's a recurring dream that's kind of boring, and then the one last night was new.

In fact, I went to a new section of BCN that hadn't existed before.

I liberated a fancy coat a woman had left hanging in an industrially-green room lined with cubbyholes. It was two parts. Leather and Cashmere. Oh, and fur. That makes 3, doesn't it? That coat led the women in the section of BCN I'd never explored to think I was part of this extremely highly-regarded (snooty) subset of society figures. A Wearer Of The Coat, perhaps. Then I met a young woman from the study abroad program at the private U near me, and she showed me the rock climbing wall/park. I climbed it a little bit. I didn't like her.

Then I noticed our Marianne and her Sprog had moved to BCN. Marianne was still holding down her job here in D-town, but worked from home. In her spare time, she had opened up a store. It's hard to explain the store. There was a LOT of detail I could tell. Basically it was this upscale, yet homey store that was filled with gorgeous food items Marianne had prepared. Among other things.

I especially remember mini-chocolate chip cookies tied with a green bow in sets of two. They were about the size of a quarter each, and my emotional response was "Oh, GOOD. Marianne is doing America proud," because the presentation was beautiful, and these were just the samples, people. She had also made cupcake-sized concoctions with mini-strawberries held together with some kind of pâte à choux, which somehow had left the strawberries raw AND the pastry crisp. Ah well, BCN is really a place that welcomes the surreal and modernist, so maybe that does make sense. The whole city was agog; it was by far the most fashionable store ever. It was a warm off-white/yellowish/greenish inside. It was more Foster's Market than Guglehupf in its design. (Sorry to those of you who aren't local--imagine warm and cozy and hip compared to glass and steel and hip)

Things have fallen apart with that boy situation I may have alluded to a few weeks ago. CRASH. It's the right call, but it still bums me out. Sigh. High highs create low lows. If anyone wants details, email me.