A and i were leaving an evangelical church. (god knows what we were doing there.) we were walking through what i assumed to be new york city and, suddenly, at the end of the street, bracketed between two buildings, there she was.
(i take absolutely no pride in the fact that my first thought upon seeing jackie onassis in this dream was that her butt was bigger than i had imagined.)
and somehow we (or i- i should say- because from this point on i was no longer aware of A; i had an awareness only of her), though we were walking down a parallel street, wound up in her path, and she came striding up to me.
not aggressively, not all HOW DARE YOU WRITE THAT BOOK, but just in the manner that you would approach someone on the street, someone you knew and had been expecting.
she was in her 50s. a cigarette was in her hand. her lipstick was hot pink.
she was getting into politics, she told me. and desperate to read consuela's memoir.
a reference, i recognized within this dream, to suzanne sugarbaker's maid on the 80s tv classic designing women.