French Dreams

Dreamed  a dream with French overtones last night.  My high school Cuban born Spanish teacher said she knew she'd mastered English when she dreamt in English.  I'm not there yet but perhaps I can dimly see the the very tip of the Eiffel Tower peaking through the fog.

We'd watched a terrific French film, The Intouchables, last night.  Richard, who rarely stays up past 9:30, stayed up until 11 to watch.  This film is part of the reason French Films have a place in our iconography.  No one says, with the same meaning, German or Italian or Japanese films.  At any rate, it was one of those films which stays with you long after the credits have rolled. 

So much so that it rolled right on into my dreams. 

Richard and I were looking for a place to have a glass of wine and tapas.  We traipsed from one red brick lightless den to another.  The tapas were awful, the ambiance non-existent until finally we came to a smoke-filled people populated taverne with appetizing tapas.  In the dream, in French, I asked for a glass of red wine. 

That's it.  That's my mastering French dream.  I got it right in the dream save that I didn't know the word for mellow (moelleux).  Small hiccup.  Still, I'm very proud.