I walk into a restaurant. I see Megan Friedman sitting at a booth. She's wearing a white long-sleeved shirt and a black skirt. It's pre-show, before work (at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival). This place is an usher hangout spot. I sit down at the table with Megan. Soon others join us. Then we pull another table up to the booth. It's now a long table seating many ushers. We are ordering our food as a group. First we get a salad dish, which is passed around the table. Then we get a clear broth soup with brown mushrooms. We only get a small bowl of it, and I realize that we all have to share it, so I only take a few spoonfuls when it gets to me. My attention is focused diagonally across the table to my right. A number of young men are sitting there. They are all good-looking. One mentions that he doesn't know if it is worth it to push two tables next to each other so we can all eat together. He explains that we may be saving money on food, but we still have to pay more to have two tables together. The guy on the right end of the table is quite attractive. He's latino and is telling some story about a relationship he had had. I somehow gather that it was with a man. He's bisexual. I suddenly find him even more attractive. "We made love on the beach," he says. He seems very experienced. We're all talking. I think I hear someone say my name. I look up. I see something interesting way up in the air, at the top of a tall, tall pole on a tiny landing: all the guys who were at the table are now lined up like broadway musical cast. Their backs are to me. Then they turn around and face me and the table. They're singing. I listen to the words: "Maya has a dixie (cup?). Maya has a party in her pocket." It all sounds teasingly sing-song. I laugh. Then they suddenly all jump off the landing. I can see their bodies freefalling in slow motion towards me. I'm on a mattress now, lying on my back watching them. It makes me worried to have all these boys' bodies dropping through the air with me below. Wouldn't it hurt to have them land on me? Should I get up and out of the way?
NEXT, I'm looking through a handful of photos that I took on a trip with a group of people. The pictures are all fuzzy with poor resolution. They look like poloroids, both in color and black & white. A guy is looking through them with me; he really reminds me of Will Mackintosh.
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