“Secrets have power,” Widget begins. “And that power diminishes when they are shared, so they are best kept and kept well. Sharing secrets, important ones, with even one other person, will change them.  Writing them down is worse, because who can tell how many eyes might see them inscribed on paper, no matter how careful you might be.  So it’s really best to keep your secrets when you have them, for their own good, as well as yours.

“This is, in part, why there is less magic in the world today. Magic is secrets and secrets are magic, after all, and years upon teaching and sharing magic and worse.  Writing it down in fancy books that get all dusty with age has lessened it, removed its power bit by bit.  It was inevitable, perhaps, but not unavoidable.  Everyone makes mistakes.”

                                                                          Excerpt from:The Night Circus__by Erin Morgenstern

I had the naked dream. You know, the one where you're in the all-together and everyone else is fully dressed and happy to be that way. But this time there was a twist. I was expecting company. Two friends who were going to come into the restaurant just as starkers as I was. It was all planned out.

I was already seated and [for some reason there was a gentleman at the table for four] while he smiled and carried on small talk I waited for my friends. They showed up and guess what, they were dressed. Completely dressed. Not even plunging necklines. One smiled at me in the 'gotcha' kind of way. The other couldn't look at me and kept glancing around nervously. The man at the table kept smiling although the smile seemed to get larger.

Well, wasn't I surprised!

I thought for a minute then got up and sauntered off to the ladies room. An attendant was there and after paying her to get me a tablecloth I wandered outside to flag a cab. I could hear sirens in the distance.

What to do__what to do?  I couldn't go home. The 'friends' would no doubt tell the police where I lived. I told the cabbie to take me to the airport. And so there I was, clad in linen trying to decide on a destination, credit card be damned. I chose Lyon, France. Never been there and always wanted to go.  And maybe, it being France, they wouldn't look too askance at the toga. Fashion freakery and all that.

What I found interesting [I mean besides the underlying implications] was that although the other diners at the restaurant had been a bit taken aback by my lack of attire the people at the airport didn't even blink. Barefoot woman in a toga? No problemo.

Oh. Does anyone know if they have extradition from France to the U.S. ?