Did the obligatory dog walk at the local park in Doctor Zhivago conditions and under the cloud of incipient babysitting; afterwards I smoked a yearned-for cigar despite the 18 degree weather. I dreamed of beach and conjured images from Hilton Head and Mexico: Sun and warmth pouring down as if by the hand of God, gold ingot-rays streaming beside umbrella drinks. The deep tissue massage of sand on sole and light on eye, the grace of time and silence in good measure, shaken, and running over...
Made me pine for that rosary I got on the deserted side of Cozumel - El Mirador on the rocky, unprotected east coast - that had the Our Father in Spanish on the back of the crucifix. I looked for a rosary online like that one (which I had gifted to a friend) but didn’t find any, which, of course is the whole point. To have found the rosary online would’ve decreased its value in some way since then it would feel mercenary and common.
The tale of the Ali Baba and the Arabian nights from the Islamic Middle Ages gave us “three wishes”. This transfixed me back when - what would I choose? Wealth, health, or NBA stardom?
But it’s interesting that a couple thousand years previous, Solomon was given only one wish and he asked for wisdom in order to properly discern court cases among his people. That’s sobering. It’s sort of like how in the Three Amigos film the three were all dreaming about how they’d spend the money they were coming into and Ned Nederlander was bent on charity.
That, in a nutshell, seems the difference between the Bible and dream-like fantasy: the Bible offers us unselfishness while dreams offer self-satisfaction.