Ice on the Tongue

Dearest Rachel –

It was a cinematic sequence so short that it hardly seemed to count as a dream – let alone one worth relating – but by the time I woke up, I had viewed it from so many different angles that I thought it must mean something, something worth telling you about and commenting on. But what was it that I was supposed to take from it?

Picture a celebrity, arriving in town from one flight or another. He is greeted by members of his entourage – or people he’s never met before who have been instructed to be there the moment he deplanes; I’m not sure there’s a difference in terms of the acknowledgment he gives them. As he strides through the gate upon disembarking, he is handed, in turn, by various different individuals, the following: a chilled glass (you can see a thin layer of frost on it, but it mustn’t be too cold, as he doesn’t flinch when handed it), enough water to fill it slightly more than half full (which has got to be a challenge to pour when walking at that determined pace – bear in mind that our important celebrity doesn’t so much as acknowledge the pourer’s existence, apart from holding the glass sufficiently still as he walks so as to allow them to accomplish this task), a couple of fizzing tablets (presumably on the order of Alka-Seltzer or some such, dropped into the water), and a couple of ice cubes to chill the water that much further.

That’s it; that’s the entire sequence. And I watched it from several different points of view; as the celebrity himself, as a paparazzo waiting to catch a glimpse of him, as a fan standing next to the girl warming up his ice cubes…

Oh, did I forget to mention that the last person in this order was a pretty girl who ‘warmed up’ the ice cubes for his tonic by holding them in her mouth, and then gently releasing them into his glass as he passed by? Because yeah, that was a thing I saw, from multiple perspectives. I’m guessing that the intention was to jump-start the melting process with the heat of her mouth, so that the ice would cool off his drink that much quicker. And of course, it was a pretty girl handing that duty, because why not? If you’re going to share an indirect kiss with someone, it might as well be the most beautiful person you can find (not that he was the one seeking her out, though; as with everyone else in this chain of events, she didn’t merit so much as a glance from him. Even the smoky look she gave him as the ice rolled off her tongue into the glass didn’t elicit a reaction from him, which couldn’t have done her self-esteem any favors).

But this is the scene I pictured in my sleep; whether it bears any relation to the reality of celebrity life or entourages is rather irrelevant. It’s a dream; it’s not necessarily expected that it should track with reality of any sort. It is sort of weird that I should be allowed to view it multiple times, from various points of view, but what of it? Do I conclude that there’s something important to be gleaned from the episode, since my subconscious decided to put it on loop in my head? And what of that separate part of my mind that, even while I was watching this, was trying to parse all this out?

Yes, while I was watching this, I was also trying to understand what it meant. It wasn’t a lucid dream, as I understand it, since I wasn’t able to control it or anything, but I was aware that it was a dream, and that it must mean something, if it was being repeated several times over in my mind. Then again, maybe I was controlling it by asking that question of myself, and the multiple repetitions were my attempts at analyzing it in situ.

Really, the only takeaway I could glean from this was that I had no desire to be a part of any aspect of this scenario. I certainly wouldn’t have any desire to be one of his entourage, subject to catering to his every strange whim and desire like that, only to be completely ignored save for those fleeting moments when I’m providing him what he wants. However, I’m not sure that I’d want to be the celebrity in question here, either; assuming his fawning sycophants aren’t clairvoyant, his supposed needs are so predictable that they could meet them almost automatic? How many people are aware that this fellow gets horribly airsick? And would he want his condition announced to the world by having a tonic prepared for him in public like that?

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!

Emily Dickinson, “I’m Nobody! Who Are You?” 1891

Yeah, I suppose there’s something about being fawned over like that, but at a certain point, it must get pretty tiresome, especially when it’s all happening while you’re dealing with a sour stomach.

It is better to ·be poor [have little] and ·respect [fear] the Lord than to ·be wealthy [have great treasure] and ·have much trouble [turmoil].

Proverbs 15:16, Expanded Bible

Now, it’s entirely likely that I’m reading way too much into this brief vignette, but I hardly think I could be blamed for it. After all, you see a scene enough times and you begin to wonder if there isn’t a message in it for you. To be fair, what messages I’m coming away with are fairly generic, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t valid; indeed, they’re that much more so for being universal. But what application they have for me at the moment… well, I’ve got no idea.

So with that being said, honey, all I can do is to ask that you keep an eye on me for the rest of the day, and wish me luck. I’m going to need it.