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Wolfy's | The Dreamweaver

Updated: Jan 3


My great-grandfather and I met up after not having seen each other in a while and at first he didn't remember who I was. I began speaking to him in Yiddish, recalling all the names he once called me—boychik, eynikl, eyngele, mieskeit—which finally jarred his memory and he took me in his arms crying tears of joy. We ended up together driving in car (once again as in other recent dreams) westbound on West Hollywood Avenue where it merges with Ridge. My great-grandfather was driving erratically so I kept my leg outstretched and my foot on the break. As we were about to turn left off of Peterson onto Campbell to go to his house for dinner, he suggested going to Wolfy's for a hot dog and when we arrived there I was greeted by family and friends who had gathered there for a surprise party for my 50th birthday. The owner, Mickey Becker, walked over to congratulate me and said, "it took a lot of doing to get Mr. Satin to go along with this, he must really love you to go through all that trouble."


Then I woke up.




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