The Dream Canvas Read online

  The next card was pulled. The Lovers. My heart started to race, and my palms started sweating profusely. A feeling of lightheadedness blurred my eyesight. It was a good thing I was sitting down. My thoughts were swimming in a pool of euphoria and confusion. Like I’d just downed a whole bottle of Benadryl. Just as she went to interpret the last card, there was a subtle knock at the front door. The sound pushed me back to reality.

  A muscular man with wavy brown hair and a neatly-groomed beard stared in through the foggy glass. He smiled charmingly and motioned for us to unlock the door.

  “Goodness gracious. Can’t this guy read the sign? Alright, sorry Dottie. Let me just see what he needs, dear.” Miss Anne-Marie gracefully walked towards the front of the store. Click. Click. The locks were undone.

  “May I help you? We’re closed at the moment,” she opened the door just enough to stick her head out to speak to the oblivious man. Oblivious and drop-dead gorgeous. I could feel a rush of warmth wash over my body just looking at this guy.

  “Yes, sorry to bother you ma’am. I was really hoping to pick up a few books from you, if possible. Promise I’ll be quick,” his blue eyes twinkled in the light. He flashed another grin in my direction and two dimples peeked out from each of his rugged cheeks. I could clearly see them under his lumberjack beard.

  “Okay, come on in. I’ll make an exception this time,” Miss Anne-Marie must have been as smitten with this guy as I was. Usually she would say no in this situation. Focusing on an individual’s reading calls for minimal distractions.

  The man walked into the store and nonchalantly stepped over the cat. His brown leather flip-flops smacked against the hard wood floor. He was wearing a pair of tan cargo shorts and a flannel button down with the sleeves rolled up. His espresso-brown hair was cut short on the sides and fell in long, messy waves on the top of his head. Dude looked like he’d stepped off the page of an LL Bean catalogue. Maybe I should start keeping those catalogues under my bed.

  “So what kind of books are you looking for?”

  “Well, do you have anything on reincarnation?”

  “Oh, yes. Of course. Check the top shelf,” Miss Anne-Marie pointed to the far corner of the store.

  “Thank you, ma’am.” As he made his way past us, I got a whiff of his cologne. He smelled like mahogany and sex. Rarely did I take note of a guy’s pheromones, but wow. His were hard to ignore.

  As the hot man browsed the bookshelves, Miss Anne-Marie made her way back and sat down with a soft thud and a jingle.

  “Again, I apologize. Let’s continue, shall we? Now, where did we leave off? Oh, yes. The Lovers. This card represents your future. Keep in mind that nothing is set in stone, that we make our own destiny…the Lovers card may be telling you that a new relationship is in your future. Perhaps a new love interest could present itself to you soon,” she whispered and her smile stretched from ear to ear.

  Under her breath she said, “Maybe you should go talk to Mr. Sexy over there.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “No, thank you. Though it is rather tempting.” I glanced over at the man and just as I did, he turned his head and caught me. Damn it. Embarrassing. Our eyes met for a split second and my face lit on fire. His gaze shifted downward to quietly flip through a book.

  “I think I’ll be off now. You have no idea how awesome that was. Thank you so much,” I stood from my seat and leaned over the table to embrace her in a heartfelt hug.

  “I wasn’t done with your reading yet, but if you need to go you can,” she said disappointedly.

  Before I could reach the door, Mr. Sexy spoke up and caught my attention.

  “Excuse me, ma’am? Do you have anything on dreaming? I’m looking but don’t see anything,” he directed his question her way but his eyes were glued to me.

  “Bottom shelf on the left. There are a few books on lucid dreaming and some on astral travel,” Miss Anne-Marie responded while shuffling through a box of dusty books. She looked at me as if to say this guy’s even interested in the same things you are. “I had a great book by Robert Moss called Conscious Dreaming, but actually Dottie over there just bought my last copy.” I couldn’t believe her! She must’ve thought she was Jenny McCarthy and we were on MTV’s Singled Out. No ma’am. We’re not playing love connection today.

  “Oh, really?” his stares were unnerving. His eyes were so gorgeous they didn’t look real.

  “Ha, yeah,” my nerves got the best of me. I didn’t know how to talk to a man, let alone this one. The last guy I held a conversation with was Rory, and let’s face it…he was no real man. I had to get out of there. I still had errands to run and talking to a complete stranger about dreams wasn’t one of the items on my list. I slung my messenger bag over my shoulder and swiftly walked out the door, yelling goodbye and thank you to Miss Anne-Marie. I knew she’d lecture me later.

  Chapter 9

  Isaiah

  It was Thursday. My flight had just landed at Tampa International Airport. I looked down at my watch – 4:45 pm. My plan was to get off the hot, crowded plane and grab a bite to eat. My plan was being held up by the hundreds of other passengers taking their sweet time pulling pieces of luggage down from the overhead compartments. Mothers picking up their kids’ messes, fathers hurrying them in hushed, strained voices. The AC on the plane had stopped blowing, sweat would be dripping through my beard soon. My stomach growled so loudly the little girl beside me giggled and glared at me. I felt a flush of red run through my cheeks. Even at an age close to thirty, I still got embarrassed from time to time.

  Following a long wait at the conveyor belt, losing my one and only checked piece of luggage, getting pissed at the concierge for not knowing where the lost and found was, and then finding it on another floor of the airport, I finally hopped into the rental car and sped off. No doubt there was a discernable scowl on my face. Traveling had always been a pain in the ass in my book. The destination is always fun, but not the traveling part. I never understood why people say they love to travel…no, they love vacationing at a destination…not traveling.

  It took me an hour to get from the Tampa Airport to my hotel in Ybor City. Ybor City is literally less than eight miles from the Airport. The traffic in Tampa seemed to be no better than the traffic in New York. The old people driving through Tampa liked to camp out in the left lane, doing twenty below the speed limit while everyone else passed on the right. They really should retest the elderly after a certain age. Yes, I realize that makes me sound like an ageist. But it’s true.

  I checked into the hotel, dropped off my luggage and headed back out to get a taste of Tampa city life. Ybor City had a unique feel to it. With its cobblestone streets, ornate brick buildings, and greenery hanging from the rooftops, it reminded me of a mix between Miami and New Orleans. There was a definite down-to-earth, artistic vibe here that the city of New York doesn’t have. Sure there are a ton of artists living in New York City, but the city itself is more like a hamster wheel of greedy businessmen than a safe-haven for the arts.

  After spending an hour strolling the streets, a lit-up sign with a large blue owl grabbed my attention. Underneath the Owl the sign read: The Crystal Owl New Age Gifts and Psychic Readings. Seemed like an interesting little place, so I decided to give it a shot. As I approached the store, more signs on the windows came into focus. “New Age Books”, “Tarot and Palm Readings,” “Crystals and Herbs,” “Come in for a Spell.”

  The store was dimly lit. It looked like it was closed. I pressed my face to the glass to see if anyone was inside, and sure enough there were two women sitting in a far back corner. The store’s times were listed, and according to the sign they should have been open. My curiosity got the better of me, and I knocked on the front window. The store’s owner was a plump middle-aged woman wearing an Asian-looking robe and when she walked, various noises came off of her. She reluctantly welcomed me in after I asked her to let me browse her selection of books. I had been thinking about the possibility of reincarnation ever since I
’d had the green hills dream. It was like I had gone back into one of my past lives. I wondered if there was a book in this shop that might give me some more information. If any store had a book of this sort, this would’ve been the one.

  Flipping through one of the owner’s suggested books on reincarnation, my eyes were drawn to the other woman in the back corner. She’d been silent the entire time. I looked over to catch a peek at her. Her eyes were already on me. We met each other’s stare, which seemed to embarrass her because she immediately looked away. I found myself strangely drawn to her, even though she had a head full of knotty dreadlocks and a black bull-ring in her nose. Not the type of chick I was usually into. But I wasn’t there to hit on every woman that caught my attention. I was there to relax and potentially meet the woman of my dreams. Literally. I sure as hell couldn’t get involved with two women in a different state.

  God, there was just something so familiar about her face that I couldn’t place. My gut told me to talk to her.

  “Do you have anything on dreams?” I asked the owner, trying to make a sound that might get the dreadlocked girl’s attention. I wanted to catch her looking at me again.

  The store owner pointed to a dusty bookshelf and mentioned how her other customer, the young woman with the piercings, had also been interested in dreaming. It was like the owner was trying to get us to talk to each other. I took the hint. Before I could take a step in her direction, the young lady got up and nearly ran out the front door. Damn. Should’ve been quicker.

  “Oh, well. We tried, didn’t we?” the store owner winked at me and proceeded to untangle a large pile of dreamcatchers. The dreamcatchers reminded me of a large knot of tangled necklaces. As she worked to untie the feathers and strips of leather, her silver and bronze bracelets jingled happily.

  “Yeah, I guess we did,” I answered and returned to browsing the bookshelves. I ended up buying a book on Past Lives and Soul Mates. Maybe I was losing my mind after all. If Frank and Pete could’ve seen me then. I’d have been labeled a pussy for sure. They’d have hung my picture on the station wall and thrown darts at it in their spare time.

  Somehow the sun in Tampa looked brighter and more vibrant than the sun in New York. Have you ever noticed when you go somewhere how certain things you see at home every day look better in a foreign place? Like maybe the clouds are puffier or the sky is a crisper blue? Or maybe the sun is a more radiant orange than what you see in your own backyard? That evening, after buying the two used books from the little new age shop, I took a short ride on Ybor’s last remaining trolley back to the hotel with a Styrofoam container of steaming hot New York style pizza. After I ate the slice and reveled in the disappointment that it tasted nothing like a genuine New York slice, I remembered there was one more thing I had to do. I had to call the artist.

  “Hello?” her voice was almost a whisper, like she was in the middle of church and had to keep her voice down.

  “Um, hi. This is Isaiah McNally, from New York. We exchanged some emails recently?” I don’t know why I ended that sentence with a question mark.

  “Yeah! Hey! What’s up? I didn’t really think you’d call this early…” was that excitement or fear I heard in her voice?

  “How could I resist a conversation with my favorite new artist?” I laughed nervously. This was awkward. “Well, I’m in town. I’m actually staying at the Hilton in Ybor City.”

  “Dude! I live in Ybor. You’re right down the street from my apartment,” she answered enthusiastically.

  “Oh, right on!” Who the fuck says right on? I just needed to take a deep breath and think before letting the words out.

  “We should meet up at the Columbia Restaurant on Seventh. You down?”

  “Tomorrow at six?”

  “I’m free tonight. Are you?” Wow. I had no idea she would want to even meet me, let alone push to meet me the day I got to town.

  “Oh, yeah. Absolutely. See you there in an hour?”

  We both hung up at the same time, and I was left wondering what the hell had just happened. I stuttered and fell all over myself on that call. Hopefully she didn’t think I was too big of a douchebag. Right on? Good Lord. Clearly I was out of practice with women…I’d lost my swagger.

  I looked down at what I was wearing. I realized I couldn’t go out dressed like a lumberjack from the concrete forests of New York City. Looking like some sort of tool in a flannel shirt. So I changed and prepared myself for this blind date. A blind date I had no idea would bring me the love of my life. The love of many lifetimes.

  Stepping up to the Columbia Restaurant, I was immediately drawn to the Latin-inspired tile mosaics pasted to the front doors. The colors stood out in a combination of canary yellow, rusty orange and sky blue. Above the heavy wooden doors, a sailboat and a cupid glared at me from within their porcelain landscapes. To the left was a metal sign engraved with the words, “Florida’s Oldest Restaurant.” She’d picked a good one.

  I walked in and the Latino vibe permeated the interior, too. A mural of Columbus coming to America hung on the far right wall. A large wooden bar stretched from one corner of the restaurant to the other. Mahogany tables and chairs graced the center of the old Columbia Restaurant. You could hear the conversations of happy families, romantic couples and busy staff members. There was an inviting aroma of Cuban spices – oregano, cumin, and garlic - undulating through the air, beckoning me forward. And then, I saw her…like an illuminated vision. Like another one of my wild dreams.

  With chestnut dreads cascading down her tan, bare back, Dottie looked like she was straight out of the 1960s. She wore a teal sundress that hugged her body in all the right places. I couldn’t believe it. I’d seen her before. She was sitting alone at the table in the corner, just as she said she would be. She glanced to her side and saw me walking towards her. I could tell she recognized me immediately.

  ****

  Dottie

  I couldn’t believe it was him. This couldn’t be happening. I mean I was glad it was happening, but how? Was he stalking me? I had to calm down and say something. He was about to be standing in front of me. Suddenly I felt self-conscious about the dress I was wearing. Maybe the neckline was a little too low…maybe the skirt a little too short. What was I thinking wearing something so slutty? What kind of vibe was I sending this guy?

  “Hi. Isaiah? This is kind of crazy…” he flashed me that super sexy smile. I hadn’t noticed how perfectly straight his teeth were at the shop earlier that day. As he came closer and closer to me, I couldn’t help but stare at his pearly whites. He looked like a model off a toothpaste commercial for God’s sake. Not usually the type of guy interested in me.

  “I believe we’ve already met,” he said and sat in the seat across from me.

  “Well, almost met. You’re not stalking me, are you?” I picked up the menu and tried to act nonchalant although my nerves started getting the best of me, again. This guy had a strange effect on me. Well who wouldn’t be affected by him? He was gorgeous. Charming. Confident. I wanted an answer to my question, though.

  “No, not stalking. I was trying to talk to you earlier at that little store, though. I was making eye contact with you on purpose. I think your friend was trying to get us to talk, too.”

  “Oh really? I didn’t notice…” I lied and readjusted my septum ring. An odd nervous habit of mine. If I’d had my locket, I’d be twisting it between my fingers. Fat chance I’d ever see it again. Rory probably stole it and sold it to a pawn shop.

  “Right. This is a great little place. Do you come here often?” he was trying to make small talk. I never do well with small talk.

  “Yes, I’ve been here a few times. The food’s great. But can we just cut to the chase?” I hesitated asking him this, but it had to be done. He laid his menu down and stared intently into my eyes. This peculiar feeling overcame me. It was the feeling that I’d known him my entire life. Déjà vu in full force. I’d never felt it this strongly with anyone before. It was like the world was cl
osing in on me or spinning faster and faster until it would throw me off the planet and into space.

  “Go for it,” he responded. He wasn’t a bit nervous, which kind of pissed me off. I was a nervous wreck falling for a guy I had just met, on the first date, and he was sitting there like a smug bastard. A smug bastard with sexy arms. And a great smile. My palms were sweaty, my knees were shaking, and I could hardly look at the guy. And he sat there – completely cool, calm and collected. Where the hell was our server? I needed a drink, STAT.

  “Why did you ask me out tonight without having ever met me? And are you really into art or are you just trying to get a piece of ass?” The woman next to us had an appalled look on her painted, wrinkled face. Her make-up was caked on so heavily, the crow’s feet around her eyes looked like little orange canyons. I wanted to tell her to mind her own business.

  “Okay, now think about that for a minute. Do you really think I would spend a thousand dollars on two of your paintings just so I could sleep with you? Especially having never seen you before? For all I knew you could’ve been some dried-up old lady with an addiction of eating deodorant and a hairy mole on her lip the size of Texas.”

  He had a good point, and he made me laugh. It was one of those deep belly laughs you get when you’re deliriously tired. He laughed too. We never lost eye contact with one another. I couldn’t believe this was the same guy I had ran into just that afternoon. Something weird was happening. These coincidences were beginning to line up in a pattern that seemed to be planned. Too contrived.