Dream

I dream of the end of an era. Art critic Sacha Craddock was going through a museum with the curator offering guidance to how the exhibits are laid out and lit. I am Stephen Fry and just wandering about while the others talk business. One room is all laid out like a Victorian parlour, well lit from a window on one wall. There are writing tables and chairs and lots of furniture in green and brass but all bright not in the normally dull blacks and greens of real Victorian rooms. I'm in the room alone after the others walk and talk away. The "sun" outside begins to set leaving the room dark but it is a spotlight. Sacha says that the sun should have been slower and the colours more intense, as they fade in red and oranges. She was right. The dream was completely true. The old days are dying for me and I want their death to last longer.