The mall that seemed magic; 1960s.
I went down the rabbit hole of distilled American commerce last night.
I ended up at two different malls,not my first choice for a fun pursuit on my own. In fear for my daughter driving on her own on icy streets, I drove to the city where she was hired to work as a photographer’s assistant. The venue was a winter dance, and I was not invited. So I looked for entertainment, needing to do some Christmas shopping, hoping I’d find some THING for some ONE within my budget.
So I drove the streets, as my phone was not smart enough to think for me and tell me where to go. I ended up in a reduced version of a the great American shopping mall, a place I usually vow not to venture into during December. There’s good reason. It’s crowded, there is nothing there I want, and I can’t afford it anyway. But maybe this time….
At the mall, I found a tucked away store with items from Katmandu and India. I found the store rather quickly in my trudge through Americana, but when I returned, it was locked. I was disappointed, and nearly walked away, but a fellow admirer of the store pointed out that the lights were still on. We hoped the shopkeeper was still about as I had made my mind up to get myself something there. In fact, she emerged, and in a friendly way, reopened the store just for me and my new acquaintance. I bought myself a jacket, and three bright scarves for my daughters and their aunt. The other shopper didn’t come inside; she wanted more time to browse, and didn’t want to delay the woman too long.
Later, I dreamed of a clever mechanism made by my first love, my high school boyfriend. He had created a machine, one that worked like dominoes, with each part knocking into the next, such as a ball that hits a pole, which then moves a marble on a ramp. The different outcomes of the puzzle referred to different parts of his life, and his friends, high school age in the dream, looked on with admiration. Their intelligent, sophisticated friend had struck again! For my part, I looked for an expression of love or attachment directed my way, but somehow the machine only resulted in getting a small snowflake earring in my ear. I suppose I was looking for a heart.
I think I’m wanting something I don’t want to want. And I fear it’s too late to get.