Dreamaticus

I stood at the top of the steps that led down to my sister’s master bedroom, astonished that she could possibly accuse me of self-importance. She and her husband had built their bedroom on the scale of a Norman cathedral. They had adorned it with lettering and symbols just as Henry VIII had decorated his many palaces. Their son and daughter were clearly spoilt too. Each child occupied an elevated section of the room where they enjoyed the luxury of their very own massive emperor-sized beds. Clearly there was no better way to pay homage to this family’s magnificence.

By now it was way past 1pm. I was appalled that the children were allowed to sleep in so late. I could see my niece AF all tucked up, dead to the world, hair spread out across the pillow like a medieval princess. I threw a pebble at her to wake her up. I wanted her to see that I had restocked her bathroom, and to enjoy the half bottle of Listerine that I had left out for her.