Things I dream about

The beach in South Beach where my sister was married, only with Venice Beach-like stalls lining the street. Sunny, bright, warm, with leagues of shoreline begging to be combed and shells to be collected. I sit in a chaise just feet away from the ocean and type away on my laptop under the shade of a giant umbrella, amazed that I can get wifi so I fire up World of Warcraft.

I dream of the club that I worked at in college. I immediately fall back into the rhythm and bustle and shmoozing. It is so nice to see John, the manager. It's even reassuring to see Steve, his owner/boyfriend and the meanest meth head former marine that ever owned a nightclub, who died of lymphoma in the mid 90s.

What reality is: Late afternoon. 47 degrees with a chance of rain. A small dog tapdancing on my head announcing his need to go out. A raging case of impetigo on my left nostril. Figuring out how I'm going to juggle and pay for grad school when I'm working part time, on thirds, in this God-foresaken economy. And an iPod shaped indentation on my lower back.