I get a call from Sushi, saying she’s coming to San Francisco and could I meet up with her while she’s there. Of course I said yes! She tells me she’s arriving at the train station (not designating which one but I’m pretty sure it’s Embarcadero), so off I go.

From Los Angeles.

I have to leave early in the morning so naturally I nap on the train. When I wake, we are just about to pull into Embarcadero Station after having traveled over water for the past few hours. I get to the train station, and there is Cydney’s school stuff, waiting to be claimed in the baggage area. I ask the attendant where Sushi went. Sushi never arrived!

When I get back to my office I run into Cat, and as we discuss my misadventure she mentions that the same thing happens to her anytime she goes to San Francisco. My sister walks by and casually announces, “That’s cuz she didn’t arrive at Embarcadero. She’s at Moscone.”

Best get the boss’s approval, so I hie over to Scott’s office and tell him I may be late getting back from lunch, I have to go to San Francisco again.

After teleporting (with FX and everything!) to the heart of the Castro (!?!), I call Sushi on her mobile phone. “Where the heck are you?” I ask. “I have no idea!” she laughs. “But I can see Andrew’s Cafe from my window.” Andrew’s Cafe has popped up several times in previous dreams…in the midst of my dream I have a WTF moment. I plant Cydney’s school stuff on a nearby picnic table and walk around looking for Andrew’s Cafe.

Two thugs come up behind me, one of which is looking into my wallet. “Gimme that back!” I holler, snatching it from his mangy personage. “Don’t you know that’s a Vuitton?” “Sorry,” he whines back. “I was just looking to see if you have any money.” “Well I don’t,” I sneer. “Now, where the hell is Andrew’s Cafe?” They don’t know, so I saunter back to the table where I have left Cydney’s school things. Apparently I’ve left my purse there, too (which is why the thugs got my wallet). When I reach my things there is a woman, dressed somewhat homeless-like, rooting through my purse.

“What on earth are you doing?” I ask, knowing full well (even in the midst of a dream) that it was my fault for having left the damned thing on the table in the first place. “I’m looking for something,” she replies. “Well you’re not gonna find it in there!” I gently gather up my my possessions from her tipless-gloved hands. She turns to look at me.

It’s Leona Helmsley.

I flash back to the circus that was her trial. There she is, strutting through the lobby of the courtroom, wrapped in fur, dripping with jewels (she did neither of those things in the real trial, just in my dream) and arrogantly spewing inane babble at those present. Martha Stewart is sitting nearby. I whisper to her, as I point ever so impolitely at Helmsley, “THAT…is no diva.”

Back to the present. I set out toward a store at the top of a nearby hill. It’s San Francisco…this hill is covered in buildings. There is a 24-hour convenience store with bars on its windows. I go inside, looking for a phone book. The interior of the store is massive - it’s Moscone Center, holding a convention of convenience store shelves. Yes, you read right. The shelves were having a convention. People were directing soup cans to the appropriate aisles.

Leaving the store, I spot a corridor that leads to a hotel lobby…a little on the two-star side of the scale, but eh. Oddly enough, I live there, too. Cydney’s just come back from school and gives me a great big hug. Her father appears from my balcony and says he hears knocking on the door. I’m trying to find my phone so I can call Scott to tell him I’m not going to make it back in time. There’s a TV blaring in the background and furniture blocking every bit of the apartment. I open the door.

Finally…I’ve found Sushi!