I had a nap today. I'd been busy all day, Spring cleaning. I was still feeling very strong and optimistic. Then I went and had the strangest dream, about Rochester and swimming. Now my mind is full of thoughts of him again.
In my dream I was in the most beautiful pool. The pool was surrounded by silvery willow trees, their branches were trailing in the water. The pool was cool and deep, sapphire blue and was strewn with lily pads. There were dragon flies flittering and the sound of wood pigeons. It was evening, the sky was the colour of pewter and heavy with the promise of thunder. It was the setting of a John William Waterhouse painting.
I was swimming, waiting for Rochester to come home from a hard day's work. That is all I remember of the dream, swimming round and round the limpid pool, while I waited for Rochester. Despite the luscious pastoral setting he eventually turned up in a pin-stripe suit, carrying a brief case and umbrella, Reggie Perrin in the Garden of Eden!
Dreams are bizarre and non-sensical things. I mean. How ludicrous. Rochester? A hard day's work? Highly improbable.