MY SURREAL FRIEND
My good friend Salvador Dali is 112 years old today. He was born Wednesday May 11, 1904. I remember that it was a hot day, a very hot day. It was so hot that even at 8:45 am, when he was born, the clocks had already started to melt.
It was during Dali’s childhood that I realized that it wasn’t proper for me to be friends with him. After all, I was not born yet. It offends all rules of decorum for someone not yet born to be friends with someone who has been born. I told Dali, “I’ll see you later in the Twentieth Century after I am born.” He had no problem with that.
“Have no fear of perfection—you’ll never reach it.”
Dali and I never connected in the latter half of the Twentieth Century while he had a body. He was busy being surreal, and I was busy being unreal. It was only after he died that we saw each other again. He appeared to me one day when I was frozen with the fear of making mistakes. He said, “Have no fear of perfection—you’ll never reach it.” After that, July 32, 1989, he has appeared to me often since he has eternity to devote to our friendship.
Now if you will excuse me, I am off not to attend his birthday party.