Discussing World Architecture with Jackie

Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis was my next door neighbor in a small, rural village in Ohio. Not credible in my waking state, but dream logic allows for a lot of suspended disbelief. The house next door to my childhood home was referred to as the preacher's house and all the Methodist preachers and their families dutifully moved in and out on a five year rotation. Flexible dream logic made it unnecessary to account for the fact that neither Jackie, nor either of her husbands, was ever a Methodist minister. She lived alone there, and as in real life, she was a woman of mystery. Maybe she was in a witness protection program. No one would've thought to look for her in Ohio, whatever she was hiding from. I had a cordial, neighborly relationship with her, but we are both quite reserved and did not impose on each other. 

The real time dream event is taking place in some ultra cosmopolitan city where Jackie and I meet again at a cocktail party; Ohio is the back story. The party is a crush of sophisticates milling about in rarefied space. Jackie moves about the room in perfect harmony and confidence; she's radiant in a tastefully spangled dress of dark blue and black that catches the light and illuminates her face. A really implausible back story for an equally implausible dream event.

Jackie spots me and pushes her way through the crowd to hobnob with me. She is Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis in her element, not my quiet neighbor in hiding. She seems to remember me quite fondly; effusive but with reserve still intact. I am completely enthralled by my old friend Jackie in a way that I simply wasn't in Ohio. She is enthusiastically commenting on a book she has recently read, and asks if I know of the book. I have not read the book nor heard of it, probably never would read the book; something to do with the masterworks in world architecture. But in the little circle now surrounding Jackie and me, we are all very excited and upbeat so I say I love the book too. A friend, who is standing beside me, is nodding and smiling and says she was quite sure I would've read that book. Well, deep shit, I'm thinking. Someone is going to find me out before I can sneak away and read the damn thing. But Jackie is ready to move on, and of course no one else is going to quiz me on a book they didn't read either. 

Jackie's smile seems genuine. She expresses regret that I did not come to visit her more when we lived next door in Ohio, and the regret seems genuine too. Then Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis drifts back into the multitudes. 

I wake up wondering why in the world I didn't visit her more when we were neighbors in Ohio. I didn't even get to see how she had decorated the old parsonage, or see her library. We could have started a book club. Maybe I would've liked discussing world architecture.