-It was a cafe near La Seine. It was a dream. He woke in the middle of the night on many nights from this same dream. He would sit in the cold stillness. He could only remember that it was La Seine, a cafe, a dream, and he was waiting. In the dream, he was always waiting. Not waiting in the way that Vladimir and Estragon were waiting, but the way you do when you know the appointment will change your life irrevocably. He had never been to a French restaurant, let alone France. The dream didn’t care. It introduced him to many cold, still twilights. It was on one of those nights, having woken from the dream, that he decided it was a sign. Most of his life had been like those cold nights, a waiting like Vladimir and Estragon. He saved up. It took years. He was not well employed, just simply so. He waited patiently. Now, in the way he dreamt himself waiting at that cafe, near La Seine. Through it, he held onto the same hope Vladimir and Estragon did, as they waited. Then he finally found himself crossing the pond. He found himself near La Seine, at a cafe. He sat at a table with a latte. Here, the dream did not follow. He was in the dream. He had made it real. It took him days to discover reality is different and he sat there for many, waiting like Vladimir and Estragon.
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