Really Old Cake

MORNING OF MATCH 27, 2009

I was taking a walk in a fictional neighborhood. I picked up a small rock or nut or something that was lying on the path in front of me and tossed it into a yard to my side. To my surprise, it bounced and bounced and bounced down the hill in a manner that would have been difficult for even a rubber ball to accomplish on grassy terrain.

I watched it until it bounced out of sight and resumed walking. Moments later, I was almost struck by the little bouncing rock as it bounded back onto the path in front of me and kept right on bouncing into the group of trees on the other side of the road and out of view again.

I then became aware of an elderly woman walking behind me. Given her apparently advanced age, I was surprised at how quickly she was catching up to me. She soon came close enough behind that she began to try to talk to me. I slowed down enough to speak to hear a little.

She was dressed in a little sweatsuit, eagerly eating a large chunk of cake covered in pink frosting which she unwrapped from clear cellophane as she went. She offered me a bite and I declined.

The lady began to explain to me how she'd been saving this cake in her freezer ever since World War II, and she'd finally decided to thaw it out and enjoy it today. It turns out, the cake was a favorite the Jews--like her--would make in the concentration camps as a kind of "comfort food", and this was the last piece she had from those days.

I was very impressed and amazed by her story, and also especially glad I'd not accepted a bit of the cake.

I somehow ended up at what was supposdly C.'s house, and B. was there as well. I cant' remember our interaction, though we did hang out for a while.

I do remember the TV was on and there was a newscast in which a strikingly pretty blonde meteorologist was giving the weather forecast. She looked very uncomfortable, and finally began complaining on the air about being unexpectedly pregnant. (I saw Revolutionary Road last night, which can likely explain the generalities of this).

My last clear memory is leaving the house were C. and B. were, only now it was actually (at least in appearance and location) the apartment where M.'s really is, and I just walked back over to my own place. It was now nighttime.