Dreams

I had a dream last night that I was reading a book.
In this book, there was a scene of some kind of large gathering, perhaps a house party.
Guess who showed up at this gathering?

ROWLAND ROCHESTER!!!

HAHAHAHAA!!!!

Oh dear.
That's what comes from reading Jane earlier in the day.

On Sunday night, I had a very kooky dream.
I dreamed that I was in a mansion owned by Richard Branson (the Virgin guy....as in the company...*cough*) and he was showing us around this mansion.
For some reason, Andew Lloyd Webber was also there.
This house was so cool. The rooms were beautiful and they were decorated in different styles. There was one that was Asian and Richard's bedroom was lovely.
Not sure what happened right after that, but the next thing I remember is that I left the group (while ALW was talking) and I ended up in a magnificent old fashioned flowy white nightgown thingie, complete with a flowy white dressing gown. I went down a big staircase in my flowy white ensemble. And that was it.
:)
Oh, and there was something going on between me and Branson, some sort of emotional relationship.
Ahem.
Sooooo...I guess this means that my subconscious wants an older attractive British man with oodles of money.
Is that too much to ask?????
;)

In other news, I'm listening to Bro.Booker's biography.
My goodness.
That man was born to write.
Anybody who can quote poetry like he can is born to write.

This is one that he quoted in reference to Bro. & Sis. Price -

Here, sown by the Creator's hand,
In serried ranks, the Redwoods stand;
No other clime is honored so,
No other lands their glory know.

The greatest of Earth's living forms,
Tall conquerors that laugh at storms;
Their challenge still unanswered rings,
Through fifty centuries of kings.

The nations that with them were young,
Rich empires, with their forts far-flung,
Lie buried now - their splendor gone;
But these proud monarchs still live on.

So shall they live, when ends our day,
When our crude citadels decay;
For brief the years allotted man,
But infinite perennials' span.

This is their temple, vaulted high,
And here we pause with reverent eye,
With silent tongue and awe-struck soul;
For here we sense life's proper goal;

To be like these, straight, true and fine,
To make our world, like theirs, a shrine;
Sink down, oh traveler, on your knees,
God stands before you in these trees.

Joseph B. Strauss