I don't usually post my dreams, but this was oddly real (in a completely fictional sort of way) and I want to remember. I was a 19th Century gentleman; Victorian, I think, judging from the clothes. I went travelling to Egypt - just me and someone else - and I brought back amazingly beautiful jewellery and artefacts - small things, no mummies or sarcophagi. Something of real me bled through, though, and I had the niggling feeling that I was doing something wrong in claiming them and taking them back to England, even though it was what everyone did.

There was an interesting sub-plot in the dream as well. I was travelling with the older brother of my best friend, whom I'd known from boarding school. This man had been an absolute monster to his little brother - and me too, by extension, in the times I'd stayed at their estate. As we all got older, the assaults had changed from physical to verbal and were still nasty. I didn't like him, but there was some reason I had to travel with him. I found out while we were travelling (we were in a carriage at the time of the conversation) that he was massively in love/lust with his younger brother and that was why he'd always been so horrible. Both brothers were attractive, the younger with red gold hair and whiskers, the older with dark hair and eyes.

I woke up just after the dreams became more dream-like and my travelling companion got his period and started drinking camomile tea.

It’s like reading an excerpt from a novel. I want more, especially if it includes steamy passion and conflict between the brothers. Stupid brain.