6
Bless me, you seem to be very hard hit. Dreams are winged, so they say, and their flight circumscribed by sleep: this one seems to have broken bounds, and taken up its abode in wakeful eyes, transferring thither its honeyed spell, its lifelike presence, Tell me this dream of your desire.
6
With all my heart; it is a joy to remember it, and to speak of it. But what about your transformations?
6
They must wait till you have done dreaming, and wiped the honey from your eyelids. So you begin: I want to see which gates the dream came through, the ivory or the horn.
6
Through neither.
6
Well, but these are the only two that Homer mentions.
6
Homer may go hang: what does a babbling poet know about dreams? Pauper dreams may come through those gates, for all I know; that was the kind that Homer saw, and not over clearly at that, as he was blind. But my beauty came through golden gates, golden himself and clothed i in gold and bringing gold.
6
Enough of gold, most gentle Midas; for to a Midasptayer it is that I trace your vision; you must have dreamt whole minefuls.
7
Gold upon gold was there; picture if you can that glorious lightning-flash! What is it that Pindar says about gold? Can you help me to it? He says water is best, and then very properly ‘proceeds to sing the praises of gold; it comes at the beginning of the book, and a beautiful ode it is.
7
What about this?
7
Chiefest of all good we hold Water: even so doth gold, Like a fire that flameth through the night, Shine mid lordly wealth most lordly bright.
7
The very words; I could fancy that Pindar had seen my vision. And now, my philosophic cock, I will proceed to details. That I did not dine at home last night, you are already aware; the wealthy Eucrates had met me in the morning, and told me to come to dinner after my bath at his usual hour.
