An elevator accident

[boccaderlupo]

I dreamed the wife and I had gone to a fancy shindig in an aged but beautiful Art Deco style hotel somewhere in downtown Newark. It was late in the evening. My friend B. who plays the saxophone was hosting a tribute to the late Wayne Shorter. It was in an upper area of the place, three rooms that opened into each other, one with a tiny, black-wood bar. People sat in circles and semicircles in chairs; there was hardly any room. Near the bar they were having a kind of buffet: salmon, some kind of chicken dish, etc. I went over there to see what was what with my wife, who is vegan, but there was nothing for her, and I refrained from taking any food.

Then up a side corridor there was somebody crying for help: a guy was trapped in an ancient service elevator, wedged between the frame and the metal door. I ran down there, and with the help of another few guys we managed to pull the door open enough for the victim to get dislodged: an older guy, balding and Hispanic, he was severely injured, bleeding in multiple places. I raced down the wide stairwell of the place and outside on the sidewalk and called 911. Thing is, I didn't know where I was exactly: no address, and no name of the place on the front of the building. I described what happened to the dispatcher, but couldn't describe where we were. Looking up on the side of the building there was a name of some kind of temple, which apparently shared space with the hotel, but I don't remember the exact words on the sign.