Greg's dream of 8/2/08

My parents had recently bought and refurbished a grand old town house into some kind of opulent Moroccan dream fantasy. Truly amazing with huge marble columns, internal courtyards and sweeping stairs. And servants, lots of servants. I was inspecting my wing of the house (sure, I’d move back in with the parents – if they had a house like this) while the housewarming party was underway. Maybe guests had been invited and I enjoyed watching the comings and goings from secret doors hidden behind damask curtains. G. Bush arrived, along with a security entourage of 100s but left after several minutes to a chorus of “fuck off Bush!”. Arnie tried to quell the chanting but to no avail. Thankfully I then came across one particular glass roofed courtyard. It contained an indoor swimming pool much like a roman bathhouse and to my surprise and delight Bill, drink in hand. He stood at the top of a Chinese bridge which spanned the pool. After all the hubbub of the party it felt like I had reached the centre of the labyrinth. We sat on stone benches and he talked about the portrayal of classical music in early cinema. Or something like that - it was hard to follow as he was going off on many tangents. But the important thing was that I was chatting with Bill as he sat at the top of a Chinese stone bridge above an indoor swimming pool in a glass roofed roman bathhouse.