I woke up a few minutes ago and looked at the clock radio beside the bed. The numbers moved upward quickly 7:05, :06, :07, :08, :09, :10... had time been broken? Was I still in a dream? I looked at the red digits ascending :24, :25, :26, :27 before it struck me _ Erika had spilled water on the clock when she got home from work. It was broken. I hit one of the buttons. The time reset to 12:00 and stopped moving.
Just a few moments before, I had a vivid dream about Midnight Records. I was back in New York for some reason and had agreed to work temporarily at Midnight. Robin and BJ were there, along with a guy who did my old job _ boxing up mail orders. JD had turned the store's second room into a listening area with couches _ very Williamsburg. I was excited to get my hands on a mail order package. I think even now I could wrap one in under 20 seconds. I had done so many _ the USPS priority mail package with the tape gun _ that it burned permanently into some deep part of my brain. I bet I'll be able to do 'em at age 70.
But it was only a dream. We all know Midnight (as a store) is gone. Erika said she has the ability to wake up, return to sleep and continue the same dream. I've never been able to do that _ but who knows _ if I fall asleep now, I might get to go buy JD some Perrier in the Chelsea Hotel bodega.