London Calling

I dreamed last night that I was in an apartment in London throwing on clothes. I was late for a professional meeting and still wearing my bathing suit. Once dressed, I stepped in my private jet with my girlfriend Meg to fly home. It was a wild, freewheeling flight and I had to relax and trust that all would be well. As we flew over Giant stadium (which was a glorious bright green) and then over two large hotels outside of NYC, I stated to some man who was next to me, "I would like to buy one of those hotels. Would you see if either is on the market and what they're asking?"

I then turned to Meg and said, "If you asked me before, I would have told you that I didn't need much money to live well -- but now that I have it, I realize how easily it is to fall into comfort. Before, I would never have bought a $500 bra but now that I know that it feels like butter, I wouldn't dream of anything less." I added that having my own plane made it easier to come home often and I loved that I could see my mom whenever I wanted. She agreed.

Then this morning (sadly back to reality), I was on the phone with my mom and she asked, "Did you just say something about London?" Uh no
. . . but I'm willing to entertain any thread of insanity that will take me back to that luxurious life I was leading a few hours ago.