I had the strangest dream the other night. I was at Columbus Circle and decided to walk up Central Park West--only to discover that the park, starting at about 62nd Street, was covered with plastic! A big bubble extended from the ground on the west side of the sidewalk all the way to the sky, and disappeared over a huge, invisible dome. I somehow knew it didn't end on the east side, but stopped over the Reservoir. And that it went up for miles and miles.
Why hadn't I read about this strange construction? I stopped a cop who was busy shooing people away from the trucks that lined the road, some of which spewed water from huge hoses over passing pedestrians. It was a secret, he explained. The media wasn't allowed to cover it--but didn't you notice we were building this all summer long?
I didn't. What's it for? I asked. We're trying to communicate with aliens, said the cop. We're sending a message to whomever is out there.
I sighed with relief, because my first thought was that were were fighting off some strange visitors--and I wanted Will Smith, but he was nowhere in sight. This is pretty cool, I thought. There's some hope for our government yet.
I continued up Central Park West amidst the crowds and chaos, and noticed a group of children sitting in the middle of the street. I walked over to investigate--they looked like they were playing with marbles--and saw them staring at a bunch of skinny little black frogs who hopped back and forth on the sidewalk. I had never seen such creatures before; they looked like cartoons come to life. "They're the aliens," explained one of the children, smiling. "No one recognized them. They got our message. They're really nice."
I stood in the street with the children and watched. And then I woke up and thought about this dream, and how we often fail to notice the most marvelous things under our very own eyes.