I guess I need to stop talking in dreams:
Yesterday, I was walking home from Ben Thanh Market after shopping. I heard someone call my name. It was Alice. She invited me to join her and her sister for some wine at the New World Hotel. She had just bought me a Coach bag as a gift. Then we went to her house and ate pizza made by an Italian chef - her sister's boyfriend. They are visiting from Italy.
It wasn't a dream, it was real life. But it felt like a dream...I felt like the luckiest person alive. I felt like I was on Oprah's camera. I checked with Alice today, and she confirmed that it all happened. Yes, Angie, even the pizza was real, with tomatoes grown on a family farm near Verona.
But no one got it the way I told it yesterday - that I know of, anyway.
I will be telling that story for a long time, so I had better get it right!