There You Are, Midnight.

Dear Kate,

I had a dream last night and you were in it.

It was a marketplace sort of alleyway that seemed to be in a fashion district. It wasn't this time period, though, it was the late 70s, or maybe it was even the early 80s. Anyway... this fashion-district-alley-marketplace looked like it was in Detroit somewhere. It was a dismal and overcast morning. There were men standing around smoking cigarettes in dark pants and leather jackets talking to eachother and examining the women walking by. Predatory, maybe. They were like movie extras. There was smog or smoke or mist rising up from drains embedded in the wet concrete alley street.

I was wearing a great dress. It was red and white and it sinched at the waist. I had black knee high stockings wrapped around my legs up to my thighs.

Somehow I got a message from you to meet you on your side of "town" (which was about a 10 minute walk through the murky streets). I walked through the bright but cheerless morning in my black stockings, and around each alleyway corner there was a different fashion affair taking place. It resembled something like pre-fashion week... people setting up their fashion miracles in the obscure concrete alleyways of 1979 Detroit, USA. I saw the photographers with their big black cameras and their umbrella light shoots. I saw painted models with avante-garde hair and slouchy skeletal frames that I covet so much.There were racks of clothes surrounding, perfectly sorted between the long winter coats, the ethereal tank tops, the tshirts, the denim jackets, and the boots... oh, fuck, the boots were great here. The racks of clothes were colorful, prismatic. I remember this one sweater specifically... it was a muted turquoise (wool or cotton?) button up sweater. I remember thinking, "That's great... Lori would love that."

Anyway, so here I am wandering through this certain thrift store alley of chromatic and kaleidoscopic wonderment in my red/white dress and black stockings when I see you walking toward me from down the alleyway. 


You look great. 


You're wearing high-waisted blue denim jeans and a perfectly-hued blue sweater. I think you had black, short hair. You're thin like the models. You come up to me with a long stride and arms outstretched to welcome a hug and say just then, "There you are, Midnight!" and I say in an embarassed shy tone, "Sorry, I just got lost among all the beautiful wreckage of this alley way." Then you ask if I like this pair of black leather boots but I say I don't care for them much. 


We left the thirfty alley way and walked toward another marketplace. I'm not sure where we were going.

Then my dream evaporated into some other dream that wasn't as cool 'cause you weren't in it.

xoxo

Midnight