My Name is Trippy Travaasey

My dream from Saturday July 25, 2009.

I am a child of the 70's era on vacation in the middle of North California. A few signs tell me I'm near UC Berkeley. The midsummer afternoon breeze comes through the open window of the moving car, refreshing me. I get out of the car and walk until I see a group surrounding a tree bent at a certain angle. I go closer to the tree and I read a plaque that explains tree is directly pointing to my beloved Kafkas. I stand wondering if the tip of this tree and the tip Mt. Elbrus are emitting an invisible protective dome over my people. Nearby is a statue of a beautiful lady nurturing the tree. She is bent and kneels over as if she is constantly watering the roots. "Mother Satanaya?" I question. "Are you still nurturing your children?"

I continue my stroll on the brick sidewalk, passing by little shops that fill all my senses. I choose to sit on the stoop of a candle shop. The shelves are lined with more colors than a summer rainbow that entice me. Its intoxicating fragrances soothe me.

I watch older hippies with psychedelic outfits stroll by. A young couple is running a few errands. Across the street, I spot a tall, lean man with a guitar on his back. His long dark hair falls into his inky black eyes. I sit straighter, smoothing my sideways plait and fixing my little white dress. He spots me sitting on the store stoop. As he walks towards me I notice he is carrying a shiny pink skateboard. He introduces himself as Jim Morrison. Nervously I unravel my braid. I ask about his guitar and politely tell him that I’ve never heard his music. When he asks me for my name I shyly tell him, “My name is Trippy Travaasey.” Jim sees me eyeing the skateboard and generously hands it to me, saying, "Play Trippy, but do good with this." He winks at me, runs his fingers in my hair and disappears into the crowds that have come out with the cooling dusk.

With a skip in my step, I run uphill. I want to play with my skateboard! After a few downhill zooms that make my long hair wild, I decide that darkness will make my descending flights riskier. I walk along an avenue lined with small willow trees decorated with little white lights. A black family catches my attention as I see a little girl around my age talking to her slightly older brother. Like others of the crowd they comment on the colorful windows. I get closer to them, to hear them talk. I hear the little girl say to her brother, "Look at that pink skateboard! How much of an allowance do I need to buy that?"

I walk to her. Her ebony eyes sparkle in the bright window's lights. She is shy and stands near her brother for comfort. I hand her my new toy that saying that I want her to have my shiny pink skateboard. "Its brand new. A guy with a guitar just gave it to me!" I excitedly explain. Their parents are nearby and overhear the conversation. They offer to pay fifty dollars for the skateboard. I firmly refuse. As I start to turn around and run towards the park, the brother yells to me , "Hey! What's your name?!" I stop, smile and shout, "My name is Trippy Travaasey!" I continue my dash to the park swings.

Years pass and I return to this little neighborhood. My hair is braided, and I'm wearing a white summer sundress, while carrying many papers in an oversized bag. I overhear that President Obama is in the area, on vacation visiting his cousin. I’m determined to show him the statue of Mother Satanaya as she nurtures the leaning tree and tell him about Circassians. I get his attention and we talk as we stroll along the neighborhoods, commenting on the little shops windows. The location of the enchanted place reminds him of a story that his cousin shared with him as a child. He asks for my name and his face lights up when I say, “Trippy Travaasey.”

He urges me to follow him. His giant steps lead me through a winding lane of little willow trees. We walk past more shops and he disappears from view as a sparkly jewelry store window catches my eye. The diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and sapphires twinkle as they flirt with golden light allowing the combination to dance and twirl in my mind. I walk away dejected, until a tall smart looking man accidentally bumps into me, sending my papers flying into the street. He shares that he was trying to find someone in a hurry. As an apology he invites me to ice cream. I accept. While a delightful chocolate ice cream, I notice that he is looking at me funny; almost nostalgically. When he asks for my name, I tell him with a smile, "Trippy Travaasey."

Without missing a beat he pulls out a little black book with the McDonald's emblem embossed on the front. His eyes are shining as he glances at me when he pulls out a shiny black pen from his crisp white shirt. A miniature pink skateboard is the pen's holder. He scribbles a few lines and signs his name with a flourish.

He hands me a check. I gasp at the amount. $1,000,000. I look down at the person’s title beneath the signature. The man is the President and CEO of McDonald's.

Bewildered, I look at him with wide eyes. He laughs at my speechlessness and explains, "I'll never forget how you gave my sister the shiny pink skateboard. She played with it for every summer since she went to college, and made countless happy memories for her, me and everyone in my neighborhood."

The man’s happiness and mirth at my shock attracts President Obama to join his cousin. They both say with a twinkle in their winking eyes, "Trippy Travaasey, just play with this. Don't give it away."