I haven’t written much about our trip to Chicago, and I should. After all, it was La’s second trip to the city, and Evan’s first, and both got to see some of my favorite people and dearest friends. I wish I could also say they got to see some of my favorite places, but for most of the time we were limited by the kiddo, of course, and by a work schedule that didn’t let me get out much.
We did get to spend our last night there at my favorite Chicago spot, so it’s probably no surprise I dreamt about it the next night, from our home 2,000 miles away.
I dreamed we were at the Dark Horse, that it was late at night, that the lights were dimmed (as usual) and a group of us were sitting in a corner of the bar where I often sat. But not where I often sat for most of the time there; it was a corner I and my friends used early on, when the bar was crowded and we were pressed into one of the few remaining spaces.
I was staring at the wall behind me, covered in mementos. The walls at the Horse do indeed feature pictures from owner Jon’s father’s life in places, and of horses and other bar decor, but other than one area covered in Polaroids — is it even still there? I don’t remember — people aren’t on display.
Except in my dream: The wall behind me had framed knicknacks from former bartenders Mac and Garrett, and others I can’t remember outside the dream. I was sad I wasn’t represented, as if I had made something of myself and deserved to be lauded as a celebrity former-regular. Jon, the owner, was his usual easygoing self, assuring me I’d have a place on this unreal wall of fame.
And that’s it. I woke up. I wonder if maybe the dream was telling me I’d finally accepted the Horse as history, but if so, it did a bad job. I ached for the place throughout the weekend. I pined for its smell, its sense of safety, its camaraderie. I guess I wished a bit wistfully for the irresponsibility the Horse signified, of days when I could on a whim walk two blocks and get drunk enough to stumble home. I love my life, but I won’t lie and say I haven’t been feeling the weight of carrying a family.
I wonder at what the dream meant. There won’t be an answer, I know. Sure would love to be up on that wall of fame, that’s for sure.
