at night i dreamed that i was at a bar. not just any bar, the bar from indiana jones, the first one, that marion owns in nepal. light streamed in through the cracks in the boarded shack walls, dirt dust and wood and leather and adventure. rough stone, aging wood. it was busy, full of shady looking movie characters.
and i remember that i was sitting at a tall and rickety wooden pub table. and i had a drink in my hand, in a rocks glass. i looked up from my drink at my seatmates, the dalai lama and ardeth bay, that badass desert warrior from the mummy. because it was a dream, right? of course i was having drinks with the dalai lama.
i took a drink from my glass and noticed something sitting at the bottom. i dug out some coins from underneath the ice and held them in my hands. the dalai lama was laughing.
"you know, those are unlucky," he said.
and i said, "no, it's indian arrowheads that are unlucky," naturally. come on, dalai lama.
"but that's an indian head penny– close enough," shot back the dalai lama, and his eyes sparkled like this was all some big cosmic joke.
and i looked more closely at the coins in my hand. and yes, one of them was indeed an indian head penny. the other was an indiana jones commemorative nickel. because apparently the US mint now makes movie-themed currency. of course it does.
and then i woke up, and fed the jude.