To B or not to B

Once I had this dream, a very fancy, delightful dream, where I was living in a lap of luxury, pampered, sophisticated, involved in pleasant travels around the world, and my husband was a renown doctor. I woke up and for a good while digested that frivolous vision. Next, I telephoned my friend who knows all about horoscopes and Zodiacs and insists that she is a psychic. I purposefully did not tell her anything about my dream as I wanted to know if she will predict my future for me in the same way as in the dream. Soon she started mixing her magic cards, and checking out my destiny. She said, not without sudden surprise in her voice, that I am going to be rich, and I’ll be married to a doctor. My heart was beating like crazy and I got warm all over my body. Then she added that his name starts with B. Now I jumped at her with my confession, screaming and projecting into the phone line an unbelievably loud squeak, meanwhile clutching the phone really hard. We both ended up being utterly astonished.

The day went on. I was still in a haze of such incredible coincidence, as I went to a Saturday concert. I had a seat # B4. No one was sitting at first three B-s, but then an old, classy looking lady came and took place right next to me at B3. In a while she started a conversation, talking about her little granddaughter, who was dancing in this concert. She even had shown me her granddaughter’s tiny picture in a program. The little cute seven-year-old was dressed in pink puffy dress, her hair curled and tied up with ribbons. I mentioned that I remembered her from somewhere, she really seemed familiar, may be from previous cultural events I visited.

The lady continued, she was concerned also with the gun shots outside on a street one day, and proposed that the concert hall has to have a policemen on the inside. I totally agreed with her, nodding my head in unison. Then, as if unable to withstand quietness, out of nowhere she asked me, if I know Dr. Pottier. I almost fell off the chair when she mentioned the doctor. Having rounded my eyes for a moment in surprise, I took a hold of myself and replied, “No, I don’t.”

The lady was searching for something else to talk and kept squeezing with the manicured hands her LV purse. She was a nice lady and a complete stranger, so in a moment I gave into my unexpected itch of frankness and said jokingly that maybe in the future I will have a relationship with a doctor and told her about my unusual dream and my psychic friend. At last, I added with big smile, that this prophetic doctor persona has to have a name that starts with B, but since she said Dr. Pottier, that’s a different doctor.

I laughed quietly. I was in such an elevated, mischievous mood, enjoying the effect the coincidence played on me, and giving into this whimsy of the mind, that deep inside I believed to eventually become withered out, white out by reality. Meanwhile, the lady looked at me somewhat strangely, with too much of attention in her blue eyes, and made sure to clarify that she said Dr. Bottier, not Pottier. “Oh……”, I sighed, feeling totally goofy, blushing all over my neck, and thinking this must be just a coincidence… It can’t be… “Who is he, anyway? Is he your doctor?” ” No.”, she said with pride, “He is my son.” The moment she said it, a gallant man with a charming smile took place at B2.

As I share with you the memory of that unusual encounter, I am tanning under the Tuscan sun, watching the little eight year old playing with a colorful ball in a water, and I am about to have a happy chat with my dear husband, Dr. Bottier.