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everything he loved. But where should that meeting take place, and what should the circumstances be? Some romantic spot in Europe perhaps—a seaside taverna on a remote Greek island, or a 19th century mountaintop hotel in Switzerland with a panoramic view of the Eiger or Matterhorn? Tony Day had been to places like these in real life. Their majesty and beauty wrote their signatures on his soul, but were they the right backdrop for this meeting with Alice? Eventually he decided no because he didn’t want the ‘frame’ to be more beautiful or interesting than a picture that had yet to be painted. Plus what if she spent the whole time they were together staring at the surroundings and paid little attention to him?
    He knew it was possible to create any dream right down to the smallest most insignificant detail. If he wanted, he could even script exactly what Alice would say and do when they met, but what would be the point of that? If he knew what the outcome would be, why even create the dream at all? Best to set the scene, then step back and let things take their course.
    Is it a treasure or torment to have every single past moment of your life at your disposal when creating the ultimate romantic dream? The heavenly smells of cinnamon, oranges or cloves, the unexpected smile of a stranger, the paralyzing cold of a mountain stream on hot bare July skin, the whistle of a distant train, the sky ballet of a flock of birds… Millions, billions, of things, details, memories, mind-photos…to sift through and then choose only a few to create the landscape and mood Tony Day wanted to wrap around this Alice when they met again.
    “But you ended up back here on this fucked up bench in the middle of nowhere. How’d that happen?” Tony Night asked, genuinely interested. “With all that material to choose from, you decided this was the best place to rendezvous with her? You are a strange fellow.” He took out of his pocket and lit up one of those awful little Indian beedi cigarettes that smell like burnt pocket lint.
    “When did you start smoking those ?”Tony Day said disdainfully when they met for only the second time.
    “Today. Someone in the office offered one to me and I kind of liked it, so I bought a pack.”
    “Those things are horrible! Smoking’s bad enough, but now you’re into them ?”
    Tony Night took a puff and waved his hand for the other to continue his story. “So why did you want to meet Miss Perfect here again? You obviously weren’t trying to impress her.”
    Ashamed, Tony Day looked at his feet and rubbed his knees. He wanted to say one thing but knew it was a lie, and on this subject he didn’t want to lie. “Fear, I guess. Plain old fear.”
    Tony Night barked a loud laugh and shook his head ruefully. “Shit! I know exactly what you mean. You didn’t want to make a mistake with her, right? So you opted for something that had already worked once. When in doubt, play it safe. God, you and I are such cowards! I totally understand why you did it.” He chuckled again and took another hit off the stinky cigarette. “But then again, it was a pretty great dream, I have to admit.”
    Tony Day straightened up and rubbed his knees again. “You think so? I’m glad. I didn’t know how you’d react.”
    Tony Night nodded. “Personally I like a rendezvous that’s more down and dirty. Like those dreams you had about Lena a while ago? Those were hot stuff. But hey, you’re in charge of this department now and I’m only here to deliver the raw material.
    “Anyway, I thought your dream was very Zen, stripped down and basic but in the best way. You guys met here, walked on the beach with the dog again and ate burgers: simple and sweet.
    “But you know what part I liked best? How at the end of the meal she reached over and took that last French fry off your plate. That’s a very intimate gesture. You gotta have something good going with another person to feel free to take their last fry.”
    Tony Day