dreaming of my dear friend

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I was back at my real home, the one where I no longer live, and it was really taken over by wealthy people instead of just starting to tend too heavily in that direction. Peggy hadn't let it daunt her. She was still whipping up great desserts and foisting them upon her neighbors in any of the multifarious serving dishes she has for such things. I was briefly with her, after not seeing her in three years, and marveling about how healthy and bright and rejuvenated she was looking. Glowing. I was very, very pleased by this and she was just chattering happily as though I'd never gone away.

Then, I don't know if I was making the rounds of the neighborhood to collect the serving dishes back for her or just to note all the places they were currently residing, but one of them was broken. It looked a lot like an oversized martini glass and the stem had snapped. I'd gone into the house/spa of a very, very chic middle-aged woman to tell her that a very large amount of cash had accumulated in the ditch of her Japanese rock garden landscaping out front... kind of like maybe the drain had clogged and it was backing up, but I'd had the feeling people were just dropping it there as donations to something, or like people throw pennies in a wishing well. She was tsking over Peggy's broken serving dish in her hands, looking vexed about how to set it down in that condition, and not bothered at all that this huge amount of cash was accumulating in the drainage for her front yard... barely registering that she had heard me.

In fact, she wasn't exhibiting any real feeling for the damage to Peggy's property, or for the possible loss of, or clog of, all that cash out there, unattended, and pretty much interacted with me as though I were a robot programmed to interrupt her with useless bits of information.