A Dream within a Dream: Buck in the City

When I got home from Chicago last weekend, I had a visitor waiting for me on the front steps. He had been spending some time chatting up my gnome Toby while he awaited my arrival.

"Buck!" I shouted. "You've arrived at last!" For this was not an unexpected visitor, Jori had mentioned that he was headed my way.






















I invited him in and we chatted for a bit. He told me of his travels. He said the last house he visited was the home of a very nice lady, but she had a boy and toddler triplets and there was an accident. He pointed to the bandages on his legs. "They broke 'em," he cried, as a tear slid down his cheek. "I could really use a drink." I knew the best place to take him in Baltimore for a drink is Fell's Point. I have spent many a drunken night quiet, reflective evening over adult beverages there.

So off we went. A lovely historic area just east of downtown, Fell's Point was once a rough and tumble shipyard and sea port, now it is home to a plethora of lovely shops, restaurants and the occasional street performer. I offered to take Buck on the Water Taxi, give him the full view of the area, but he said "No thank you, ma'am. We deer aren't much for the water." (I thought he looked a tad scared myself, but I would never call him on it. Bucks are a prideful bunch, you know.)















As we sat down at a local watering hole, the bartender asked him his favorite drink and he said, "Why, I quite adore a good Amontillado, when I can get it."

"Amontillado! My heavens, unfortunately I don't have any, but I assume you've heard of Edgar Allan Poe?" the bartender exclaimed.

"Of course! 'All that we see or seem, is but a dream within a dream.' Poe is one of my favorites!" Buck said. (He's a bit of a show off, that Buck.)

"Well then, you MUST visit his grave. It's just downtown." And with that, the next stop on our tour was set. We finished our drinks (NOT amontillado), thanked the bartender and headed out.















Buck was excited to see the final resting place of one of America's most interesting horror writers. Buck sat for several minutes, reflecting the many works of Poe and taking in the beauty of the quiet cemetery. As is tradition, Buck left a penny.















Buck then asked if we could find a quiet spot with a view. "But, of course!" And so we headed towards the south side of the harbor and Federal Hill. While Neil and Sophie cavorted, Buck and I sat and looked out at Baltimore's beautiful Inner Harbor. The sun shone and a gentle breeze blew puffy white clouds across the sky as I pointed out each of the buildings and told him what I could of their history.















After a while, I ran out of stories and we sat in companionable silence. Sophie bounded up, proclaiming that she was tired and ready to go home. (In toddlerese, of course.) With that, Buck decided it was time he was moving on. As we loaded ourselves into the car, Buck thanked us for a wonderful day and then turned and struck off for lands unknown. He's a rolling stone, that buck, and he's got places to go and people to see.