March 31, 2012

I was in Eugene for a weekend seminar on filmmaking. Guest after guest would present from morning until night, and the attendees didn't have much free time. I heard about some people sneaking away at night, and I began to resent being obliged to stay put at the residence. My friend's birthday was that night in Portland, and I was really considering it. She gave me directions how to get to her place. "Once in Portland, take a taxi from a really nice old guy who will charge a very little amount. Arrive at the metro stop. Take the metro, and then another metro, and then arrive at my house." This is my chance, I thought. I'm really not enjoying myself here. Spending full days listening to similar different theories and experiences, and from people who think so highly of themselves, without even asking our "humble student" opinions. This is my chance to do something exciting and fun this weekend. I walked outside of the residence, onto the flat, vast road, I saw a hat-wearing, briefcase holding man in a very old, fancy suit, walking toward a spiral case of stairs. Out of my conscious, I shouted something like "Hey!" He didn't turn back, and I felt embarrassed, so I tried to get to the nearest corner I could find. As the man approached the stairs, he faced me and took off his hat. The look was direct and questioning. "I need to get to Portland to take a taxi from this great old --" "He is gone," the man interrupted. "Just a few months ago, he left to New Jersey." My insides dropped. "But I need to go to Portland and take his taxi and get to my friend's party," I said sincerely. The man answered, "I take people on sunset drives, and anyway I can charge you 10 dollars. Actually I can charge you nothing." I was skeptical, but I thought: this must be a part of my adventure. I could think of all the people who would advise me not to travel with a stranger. But I took them out of my head. As we walked back to the man's car, I observed that without a hat he looked much younger. And under his large suit, he was quite healthy looking. I saw a friend in the distance and immediately motioned him over, "Hey! Come to Portland with me! It's a free trip, and we're going to a party!" Confused by the sudden demand, he carefully walked toward us. Another friend from behind him came into view, and without thinking, I invited her along as well. I turned to our driver, who bore a blank expression. He led to his vehicle -- fancy that; he is a taxi driver, I thought, reassured in a way. He unlocked the doors, and the the three of us students, delirious and bored, entered. I don't remember what was said in the beginning of the drive, or what it felt like in the taxi. But along the long, plain road to Portland, we began to see large animals in the foggy distance, running toward us. As they neared, we could see and feel the power of a herd of majestic and silky horses gallop past the car, in the opposite direction. "Hand me my camera!" I called to my friend. But we had all forgotten to bring our cameras. The driver smiled, but he didn't seem surprised. The sunset was beautiful on the world's canvas. After the horses were gone, we saw a few people riding on bicycles or walking past. Nobody was driving on the other lane. Actually, we were the only car on the road. The next moment I can remember was driving (can I say that?) through a deep lake. The driver made a funny and ironic statement about driving on water. We smiled, and remained silent. "By the way, I should give you my business card," the man said, turning to me. "I could take you guys back to Eugene tomorrow." I nodded. "That would be great." But I just realized that I had forgotten my money and mobile phone. Before, I hadn't needed any of that. We were entering a city that requires money and access to communication. Maybe we should just stay for a few hours, and go back with him, I wondered, but not for long. Soon, we were in Portland. I was handed a business card, and we thanked the man, walked out of his car, and ventured for the metro stop.

(dream)