I dreamed of Tony

The sun was taking a dip in the vast teal water.  On the white sandy beach, around a bonfire, along the Tiki torches, there was dancing, laughing, and drum beats.  Music of Latin flavor; colors of the Caribbean.

I was dancing on the sand in a white cotton summer dress. A cool drink in my hands perspiring.  Around me, friends of all different colors in even more colorful clothing chatting, eating, clapping, singing.

We were celebrating the sunset.

I plunked my giddy self down on the sand next to my best friend whose adventure I was privileged to be a part of.  He wore a rumpled white linen shirt with sleeves rolled up and an easy smile.  I leaned up against his shoulder with a dramatic sigh.  He chuckled.

“Are you having a good time?” he asked.

“Dude! Best. Time. Ever!”

“That’s good. I’m glad.”

Someone came rushing over and thrust shot glasses of something into our hands, insisting that everyone must have something to toast.

Drum rolled. All around the fire, people raised their glasses and downed the fiery brew.

We howled at the setting sun.

Still leaning against each other, my friend and I sat quietly, watching the ashes danced up into the stars.

“Alright, I think I’ve done enough drinking for the night,” I pushed off to get on my feet.

The shifting sands stole my balance.  My friend caught my fall.

And then he kissed me.

It needed to be done, it seemed like.  And now it had.

He smiled at me and took my hand, leading me back to the party.  I danced to the music along side his long strides.

For one brief moment on the tropical beach in my dream world, my BFF Anthony Bourdain who was taking me along for the ride on his No Reservations shoot kissed me by the bonfire.

This dream was a follow up to the initial dream the night before. In that one, Tony, already my best friend, came to Thailand and I was showing him around.  He drove me home (why didn’t we take a cab?) and we walked arm in arm up to my house, talking about how cool it was the he could make it to Bangkok so I could show him around.

Yep. I’m certifiably insane.

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