Mr Rich

Confused dream, living in shared accomodation, a series of rooms; there was a grey haired elderly lady on the landing looking confused. Russ showing me a space where we could stay, a medium to large sized room. He spoke about the bed, which I thought would be in another room but no. This was it. No worries but looked to be cramped.

Many people being friendly, a good friend of mine had an open relationship with some guy, extremely good looking in the most 1920s/30s way, dark hair, dark eyes, dark moustache, a touch of John Gilbert meets Howard Hughes but with far more finesse and humour, the chiselling of his features perfect. He was friendly to everyone and though I was aware of him - impossible not to be - I had other things on my mind. Then when I turned around, he came in close and tilted my chin up towards his face. I looked into those utterly beautiful eyes, and realised that however open my mate's relationship might be, mine was not, so I turned away politely. I can't recall anything after that.

But it stayed with me this morning. The whole dream reminded me of some fictional epitomes of wealth's beauty; Daisy Buchanan, Dicky Greenleaf, even, if we're stretching it, Felix Catton or Sebastian Flyte. But hmm to those latter two because Felix and Sebastian are just rich troubled kids with enough blue blood to guarantee inherent stupidity. Daisy and Dicky are solar, golden, unearthly in beauty. They can think but never have to, and like most myths they cannot grow old.

This dream character was not golden; but he was rich, so very rich I could feel it. Now that I think, I may even have a name for him. But like all dreams, some parts must be kept secret.