I had the weirdest dream last night. I was the winner of some kind of luncheon or tea with Byron, Shelley, and Keats.
There was also another guy at the table, who happened to be a dwarf, and he was a writer, but I didn’t know who he was, and I was too embarrassed about not knowing who he was to ask him who he was. All these dream interpretation websites, which I take absolute stock in, seem to indicate the dwarf represents some underdeveloped or unexpressed part of myself.
Keats reached over and squeezed my hand when I sat down. Be still my heart!
He was very quiet, but friendly. Actually, I don’t remember he said a word, but he did smile.
Byron, on the other hand, was clearly put out about having to eat with a contest winner. Could be also that watching women eat grossed him out. He was wearing this outfit, I swear:
Shelley, on the other hand, was really flirtatious, but in that way you know is totally insincere. And every time he said something, I kept thinking of Mary Shelley. He kept apologizing for Byron’s behavior and chastising him for not being friendly. Then Byron would snap pissily (if that’s not a word, it should be) back at him.
Keats was quiet, Byron was sullen, and Shelley was gregarious. It was really weird.
Of course, I’m preparing to teach the works of these three gents in coming weeks, and my students are currently reading Frankenstein. I also received this lovely book in the mail…
…signed by the authors, courtesy the Bodleian Library at Oxford.
Receiving mail from the Bodleian was really cool. I am going to save the envelope.
The envelope also contained a pretty picture postcard of the Bodleian’s doors:
Note: This image is not the postcard image, which is probably copyrighted, but it depicts the same doors from a different angle.
I really wish that weird tea party had been real. Can you imagine?