San Francisco. Bustling, crowded, Asian and the trolley buses going up and down the hills are a unique experience for the uninitiated trying to make it to the next interview. Up hills, down hills. Certain that I had blown the interview I prepared myself and my wife for disappointment.
I knew I had failed. I would not be near my sisters children for whom I felt a responsibility. I was angry, and in my anger I screamed inside my mind, "Why?" "Why? Why can't I." I felt I had stepped out on a limb for people I cared about, and it was giving way.
San Francisco is cold, even in the summertime and in a three piece wool suit and here I was traipsing from job interview to job interview. At first I had confidence and thought I had done pretty well, but after a few days of failure I was beaten down. Broken.
At my last interview I was most incapable.
Before dawn on the day before we would leave I had a dream: I saw the hills of the City from the air without buildings, just bare sand colored rock without earth or covering of any kind. One hill in particular attracted me and I melted into it; it was conscious and feminine and a feeling of warmth and substance went up my spine and dripped out between my vertebra.
I awoke feeling utterly at home in San Francisco with a new attitude towards the City. Naturally I was hired. But that morning I knew I would be.
