Agape: In Search of Universal Love
from the novel, The Lodging for the Rose
Rolf. A. F. Witzsche

Story 11 - Coffee Sex and Biscuits
page 65

Story 11 - Coffee Sex and Biscuits

      During the night after our conversation with Nicolai, where we had talked about scrapping the Byzantine system that isolates humanity and authorizes what people ought to think and feel, I had a dream. We had talked for hours about the subject of vertical domination, and for many more hours among ourselves after our conversation with Nicolai had ended. Our entire conversation that evening had been focused on the realization that this system had to go. It certainly had to be scrapped in our own lives, as well as in the world at large.

      We decided near the end of the long discussion that the very notion of a vertical domination between people had to be replaced with an open door policy towards developing a greater honesty with ourselves, a greater self-love as a foundation for the substance of our love for one another. All of this was strangely reflected in my dream, though in a totally different context, as this happens so often in dreams. The context in which this focus reemerged seemed almost unrelated to what we had talked about, and yet it was totally related to our project. The dream unfolded in a way that made the project far more challenging than I had dared to acknowledge to myself.
      I dreamed that night that I was in a cafe with Sylvia. It appeared to be an ordinary run of the mill type cafe. The waitress was dressed in black, as waitresses often are. She had long black hair and wore a super-short miniskirt.  And that is where the ordinary world ended. I became intensely aware that her miniskirt was too short, that it was so short that a few strands of her pubic hair protruded below the hemline. I couldn't help being aware of it as she stood by the cash register that was placed on a counter with a well lit display case underneath.

      Suddenly the scene changed. It intensified. She turned and walked towards us, towards me. I was no longer aware of her face or her expression, but I did see those twisted strands of hair. She stopped at our table, almost touching it with her legs, and removed the ordering pad from her pouch. In the process of removing the pad she raised the hemline still higher, high enough to reveal more of the bush of her hair and what lay behind it.
      "Good morning! Do you like what you see?" she asked, as if she was asking for our order.
      I was stunned. Without the slightest hesitation I said, NO! I was embarrassed, unable to respond in any other way.
      Sylvia existed outside of the sphere of this moment. I couldn't sense the slightest reaction from her as if she hadn't heard, or as if she suddenly lived in a parallel universe in which this was not happening. I observed that Sylvia ordered two cups of coffee for us, one large, one small, and a couple of Danish pastries. "That's what we like," she added.
      I looked away from the waitress, afraid of what might happen. I didn't want Sylvia to know, or her to have heard what had really been said.
      Sometime later I saw the waitress again, similarly engaged with a man at the far side of the cafe. Evidently, the man had answered differently. I could see his hand under her skirt. She was stroking his shoulders, his hair. They were both laughing, even kissing at times. At the end, after countless minutes had passed she received what looked like a ten dollar tip from him, which was presented to her with an another kiss, and was received in the same manner and with a great big smile.
       When she walked away, the man just sat there in a daze, still smiling. Moments later she brought him his coffee.
      "Have you been honest with yourself?" I heard Sylvia say to me in my dream, from across the table, when the strange affair across the room had ended. "I bet you would have loved to trade places with that man."
      I hesitated. "The answer is both, no and yes, all at the same time" I answered her, perplexed. "No, says, I have not been honest with myself. And, yes, I would have loved to have traded places with the man. But how did you know?"

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 (c) Copyright 1998 - Rolf Witzsche
Published by Cygni Communications Ltd. North Vancouver, Canada