Vacation

Last night I dreamt about vacation.

I was taking a rich people's vacation. Rich people vacationed on a deserted beach, with sand dunes and no electricity. The luxury was in knowing you could afford anything and had chosen this. I had only been on the beach a little while when Celia Weston pulled up, looked us all over disdainfully, and told us a hurricane was coming--we had best find shelter. All the best families were going to the Four Seasons, but I didn't have any money, so I rounded up my group and headed to the nearest Hampton Inn. As we were checking in I was terrified my card would be refused, and the wind howled, and Celia drove around and around on a motorcycle in the storm.