If dreams carried scents along with them, then mine
would remind me of the fresh chocolate croissant from
the bakery on the corner. This little and yet mysterious
place has become a part of my daily routine. In the corner
sits an old man reading a newspaper
through his thick glasses, which
sit on his aged, wrinkled face. As I pass him on
the way to my favorite chair, he lifts his
tired eyebrows and greets me with a smile. There is
something so calming about him that I can't help
but wonder. How can somebody make even the most
simple thing like holding a coffee mug look like a
Broadway show? Is it because he once had a beautiful
life, where everything went smoothly and there were no
real bumps on the road? Or is he just so happy,
because the shiny gold band on his finger is
screaming, she is the reason I am who I am?
Meanwhile, I drag myself to that comfortable, satin
covered chair where I can enjoy my coffee. As soon as
I sit down I start to think about that dream I had
last night. I feel sad, because I realize that it was
only a dream. I force my mind back to my real things-
and they are definitely not going smoothly these days.
My job is not satisfying, my boss is taking advantage
of me, and I just realized my best friend is only
there for me when it's convenient for her.
The dream wanders back into my thoughts- I'm living in
a big city apartment with balcony facing a
road with narrow paths which are trimmed by old
oak trees. My place was tastefully furnished
with white furniture, the walls were
covered with framed photographs and paintings from
the many countries I took trips to . My closet was full of
latest trendy clothes and the shoe rack was endless, packed
with footwear of every color possible. I had a high
position in big entertainment company were I worked.
I was admired and looked up to by my friends.
Everything just seemed to be put in place and
perfect.
Slouched in the chair, staring out the window of the
coffee shop, my shoulders twitch as my mobile phone rings.
I answer with a restrained voice.
"Hello?"
I receive a caressing 'Hi sweets' from
my boyfriend. Feeling a little ashamed of my own mood,
I take a big breath and start to share my misery with him.
As always, he listens without interrupting
me. I tell him everything about the dream and how sad
I was that it wasn't real. After telling him my depressing
sob story, I finally ask him, "So, how are you doing?"
"Oh, fine," he replies.
"I just wanted to call and let you know that I was thinking
about you, beautiful. I can't wait to see you on Saturday.
We'll get out of town for a day, and it will be great.
We both could use some time off. I'll bring my camera,
And we'll take lots of pictures.
Don't let me forget!" (I can hear the enthusiasm in his voice).
After a little pause I hear the sweetest words in my ear.
"I JUST love you. No, I just 'chukkochudo' you!" he says.
"I'm sorry? I couldn't hear you well", I answer. "My phone must be broken."
"Oh, no, you heard me fine." he replies.
"I am just so in love with you that 'I love you' is
just not enough for me to say. I feel more than that- but there are
no words strong enough to tell you how I feel. So, I made something up
on my own. You know, something original. For my
special girl. I have to run now, but I will call you
later, because I'll be missing you . How about in three
minutes? Just kidding. Well, sort of. Call me anytime
you want to, I am here. And sorry that you feel crummy
today."
Without a chance to feel as I did when I walked into the
bakery a few minutes ago, I realize that he has made my dream complete.
I thought I had all in the dream, but I noticed what was missing
in my 'PERFECT' dream was love.
I DO live my dream, every day.
Maybe I don't have an apartment on 5th Avenue, but I can
make my place just as beautiful by putting the
bouquet of Lilies my boyfriend just sent me on the
table next to my bed. I can frame the pictures from
our trip on Saturday and put them on the wall. And I
can arrange a meeting with my boss or look for a
new job. I DO live my dream. I live my life the way I
created it.
On the way out of the bakery I look again at the
old man in the corner. His face seems now more
familiar, and I know that there is something or
someone out there who made his day as special and unique
as mine.
The almost romantic but more often funny 
