It was Manhattan, I understood that, but more ethereal. The watercolor sky made the city’s brick and concrete beautiful and sharp. I was with my friend, Doreen. She didn’t want to be there and wasn’t taken in by the cityscape or our purpose for being there, which was unclear to me anyway. A series of brownstone apartments stood out, 3D against the Kodachrome sky. They beckoned me. These connected buildings were magnificent in their design and craftsmanship. The spirits of the architects and laborers gazed up from the sidewalk, awed that their vision and efforts created such masterpieces that stood the test of time. The stone was solid. The windows clear. The corbels distinct and irreplaceable.  I knew I’d arrived at my destination.

Lin-Manuel Miranda joined us. He had a friend with him as well. Brandon R. He pointed to his name on a sheet of parchment paper. I took note, judging him by his penmanship. The artistic B and R with a playful flourish at the tails of those letters. The symmetrical slant of the lower cases. His name unmistakable, proud.  Cursive from another time. I liked what I saw.

Three of us excitedly climbed the stone steps, Doreen hanging back to sit on the stoop. The front latch was chest high, and the thick windowed door opened lightly and quietly. We explored the marbled hallways; wandered rooms with high ceilings, admired the polished mahogany paneling, stained glass, and clever design elements. A kitchen with hidden appliances was both a workspace and a formal dining room. We discussed similarities to Frank Lloyd Wright and various architects. Until this conversation, in this dream, I never knew I was so conversant in architecture.

Behind these buildings was an oasis, lush and green. The four of us meandered down the damp hill, enjoying the dappled sunlight and peace. The company was familiar, and our laughter echoed up the hills and through the trees. We discovered a waterfall with three cascades within a grove of trees, the sun bright at the peak. The moss-covered rocks were slippery, and Brandon gently took my hand. Love shivered from my palm to my heart.

Then the cat threw up. A painful yawl as he extracted a hairball and deposited it on the carpet on my husband’s side of the bed.

The dream shattered as I cleaned up the real world.

I laid back down, hopeful I could conjure up this dream love. I visualized our hands touching. I willed myself to feel the mist from the waterfall. The cat climbed on me, purring in my ear. I will just have to accept this version of love and bid Brandon with the beautiful handwriting and strong love lines adieu.