A few minutes ago I was still asleep and dreaming. I’d been back to Barcelona for a short trip, and while there I’d been to a shop run by a man and his family. They sold vases and bowls and plates — gorgeous ones. Oversized stone tiles made up the floor, the ceilings were high, and there were lots of open doors so it was light and breezy inside. They were doing some kind of construction, drilling holes into two ancient stone walls that faced each other, so they could add in new shelves. Little bits of something like styrofoam, like the oldest ever popcorn packing material, spilled from the wall as they worked. I played with pieces of it that I picked up off of the floor.
Then, in that folded-time way dreams have, I was back home, trying to get Willow to nap on the couch. She finally fell asleep and I picked up the phone to call the shop. I needed to buy a bowl for a gift (I think for my mom). The man answered. He remembered me and told me he’d look around to see what they had. While he looked, I held the phone to my ear and listened to the construction and the voices. I could barely hear music playing. I looked down at sleeping Willow and listened to the sounds coming from so far away. He came back to the phone, "No. No I don’t have anything like that. But, maybe I will next time you come in."
When I woke up this morning, I was still trying to budget cash for plane fare to Spain (I was counting the kids, too, so you know I was dreaming) and I was still hearing the sounds coming from the phone. That moment, between when he said goodbye and hung up the phone, that moment where I could hear the sounds all around him while I watched my daughter sleeping. That moment has given me such travel lust. I want to go hear those noises without the help of phones or dreams.