It was an idiotic dream that left you wondering what actually happened. I dreamt I was at a function where I met a number of people. They were total strangers, but one of them kept looking at me. He was not staring so much as studying me.  He looked strangely familiar, but I dismissed that thought and moved away from him. There was nothing that occurred in the dream that would entice fear or disgust, yet it was still odd.  I kept thinking of the guy during the day. I had dreams like that before I even met a well-known fellow that few would like, but this was different. This guy reminded me of someone, and try as I might, I could not place who he resembled or where we had met.

The day did not improve.  There were at least five utility bills needing attention and very little in the kitty to action.  Then I remembered I had a “rainy-day” jar somewhere.  I thought I knew where it was but finding it involved my tidying a messy room. Alas no rainy-day jar, just junk and fortunately no vermin. I did find an old photo album and stopped to look.

There he was, the man I met in the dream. It was Uncle Angus. The photo must have been years old; in fact, a lady near him was wearing a miniskirt. Heavens, how strange.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. The guy held a special delivery letter addressed to me. The visitor said

“I hope it’s good news.  Is there anyone with you or should I wait?”

I only half heard him in my endeavour to satisfy my curiosity.

“Oh my gosh.”

“Lady, do you need help?”

He came inside and led me to a chair, standing some distance away as protocol would dictate.

“It is a lawyer’s letter. My great Uncle Angus  has died.”

“Has he left you money?

“More than that, it appears I am the sole beneficiary. If this is true, and it must be, I won’t need to work again.”

Who needs the billionaire I once dreamt of? Good old Uncle Angus