Careful what you dream it may come true
Tonight was my ballet school's annual concert. A couple of nights ago, I was lying in bed, not quite asleep but not awake either, when I had a half-dream of the theatre being on fire.
It was on my mind for the day, not because I believed it would come true, but because I decided it'd be fun to build on it and write a short story.
Today, we drove up to the theatre, and I was dropped off outside, surprised to discover that the entire dance school was standing outside. Why? The fire alarm was going off.
It was a false alarm, and there was no fire for the rest of the night, but it was still oddly coincidental, and almost scary.
Coincidence In Surrealism
My dad took the family on Sabbatical from the University of Kansas to France in 1989, and we lived in a house in a suburb of Paris. The house belonged to a woman who was a curator at the Louvre, and she rented it out to (mostly) visiting scientists -my dad's a physicist.
There was a book on Surrealism in her library that I always wished I'd stolen but, back then, I was 14 and a good kid.
Years later, I was walking around Manhattan on my third day in college with a bunch of other new Cooper Union students. We'd come from all over the country.
This one flat-nosed guy from Pennsylvania and I started talking about our parents, and Sabbaticals, and the conversation went something like this:
"You lived in France, too, huh?" I said.
"Yeah, in a suburb of Paris."
"Really? Did you live in Orsay?"
"Yeah." At this point, I got a creepy feeling.
"Did you live at 35 Rue des Xxxxxxx?" I asked.
He had the Surrealism book back in his dorm room. I should of stolen it from him.
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