I had a vivid dream about two friends I love very much who are both dead. I dreamt that I was talking to Deborah Geithner on the phone and we were discussing making music together. She tells me to come to her house to pick up some sheet music. Her house is easy to find as it is straight down Sukhumvit Road. I see her in this dream and it's forty years ago, she would have just turned forty.
I hail a taxi and I get into the car with an old lady who in my dream is not identified. We set off but for some reason my mind wanders and I realize that I have not actually told the cab where to go. And the taxi has taken a long curved turn to the right and is now going down a long soi.
I realize that I no longer know where we are or where I'm going. I tell the taxi to let me off somewhere so I can call. The place I am let off is some kind of waystation, rest stop, or post office. Or clearing house. There are little windows with people in line waiting for things.
When I phone, I reach Peter Geithner, her husband. I tell him, "I'm just coming over to pick up some music. Can you tell me the address?"
"But why are you coming here?" he asks me. He takes an inquisitorial tone, as if trying to get me to say something I don't want to say.
For someone reason the conversation just goes around and around in circles, and finally I ask "Is it Soi 7?" and I realize I am wrong, that is an old address, and I never had an idea where they are living now, or any idea where to go when I set off.
Looking up on the wall, I see that someone has written the name Kanán 19119. (My memory is slipping in the exact number but it has ones and nines in it). The old lady who is with me (I still don't know her) says, "That's the address, write it down."
I say, "But it's not Geithner, it's Kanán. It is someone else."
Nevertheless, I follow her example and start writing it down. Then I wake up.