Last night I dreamed I was driving in Greenwich Village when my cellphone rang--it was a stranger calling.
"Can you tell me how I can locate a Mr. Edelstein?" he asked.
"Well," I answered, "I suppose you could call the operator--what is Mr. Edelstein's first name?
"I'm not sure," said the stranger. "He's someone my girlfriend passes on the street every day, and I just wanted to see what he looked like."
At that moment I arrived at a stop sign in front of a bodega. An older woman walked out of the store talking to herself--crying, saying something about how people shouldn't be unkind, there was no need to be so unkind. I tried to write down her words so I could remember them later, but what I thought was a pen, turned out to be something that when touched to the surface, crumbled into a pile of leaves.
Driving again and still on the phone with the stranger, I heard him using another phone to call the operator. He was asking for the name "Edelstein" in Manhattan. I laughed.
"No, no!" I said into the receiver. You will never find the man that way--there will be thousands of Edelsteins in New York!
"OK then," said the stranger. "Maybe he's a doctor. I'll look for Doctor Edelstein!"
I laughed again at his innocence.
"What is your name?" I asked.
"Winter," he said shyly.
"Winter?" I replied.
"Yes, I know," he said. "It's a great name."
"It's the greatest name in the word!" I shouted. "And if you were 20 years older, I would fall in love with you without ever having met, simply because of your name!"
Winter laughed, and although I already knew the answer, I asked:
"So, how old are you?"
"I'm twenty-four," he replied.
"Then, that settles that!" I said.
We both laughed and said goodbye, and that was the end of Winter, and the end of my dream.