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In the dream I lived in a large garden. Nearby in the garden lived my cousin and closest friend, Aethis. She was a character in a fantasy novel I conceived as a teenager (in real life) and worked on for many years but never completed. By extension, in this dream I must have been Prince Sol, the novel's protagonist. The garden bore some resemblance to my childhood home, verging on a large body of water like Lake Erie, except it was a narrow body with a city on both sides, like the Detroit River, and it seemed to be somewhere in Southern Europe or the Middle-East during the Renaissance.

Aethis and I had a series of adventures in the garden, which I can't recall. Then we were looking at a series of photographs taken there. One showed my pet black-and-white cat flipping and leaping high in the air under a grape arbour, as if running along the underside of the leaves. We laughed loudly at this.

We were visited by another prince who was dark and handsome. He was also an arrogant asshole, but Aethis and I were in awe of him. He looked through the photographs and made flippant remarks about them.

Danny arrived home, but he looked like Tintin (in the recent movie) with dirty blond hair. As I was turning to walk up some stairs in our villa I found Danny in a powder room in the basement rubbing some pigment into his hair to make it brick red. I was surprised but didn't say anything.

Danny explained: "He [the other prince] told me it would look better this way. I should have asked you."

Our visitor had appealed to Danny's vanity and interfered in our relationship. Suddenly I was angry.

"Yes, I wish you had asked me," I said. "I don't like it."

I had offended him. He stood for a moment in sullen silence. We were about to get into a quarrel when I woke up with the name of an imaginary compound in my head.

Virmidium barthite. That was random.

The original novel about Sol arose from an epic dream I had. It is cool to dream about him again, not so cool that the dream turned petty and unpleasant.

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