When your dreams come true without you knowing it

"joy in desire more than desire of joy
hath ever been my passion; mute from far
to love an unknown woman like a star;
to build in dreams no waking could destroy
some island-palace far from life's annoy;
by strength of spirit to force the silver bar
of twilight till the dawn-gates stood ajar,
and gaze on Paradise, a dazzled boy;
to look forth o'er the ocean's grey-lit foam
in the dim morning; and in starry night
upon the myriad-mustered worlds above;
to emulate the unequalled, Greece and Rome,
heroes and deeds, the heads of faith and fight;
to adore thee whom i may scarcely love."
v., love sonnets, john barlas

I think, though this might be a figment purely of my own imagining, that I had actually sat near (not exactly next to) JW on a train to London and had thought she'd looked familiar, nearly almost like JW herself, but bit my tongue asking.

Not that there would be any way of verification at this point, mind. What fools we are, when the object of our childhood dreams and foolish desires lie, hidden, so close yet so far.

I'm of course melodramatizing this. I am chuckling to myself in amusement yesterday when I came across this recently taken photograph of her and realized that it may have well been indeed, with a high degree of probability, my favourite writer herself.

Well, in consolation, at least I now know she frequents Spitalfields and am nearer to her in Reading than I would ever be in Singapore. All the better to chance a glimpse and an autograph.

My life's work is nearly complete:

• Neil Gaiman for the Sandman series of graphic novels
• Tori Amos to sign a copy of Choirgirl
• Jeanette Winterson to sign a copy of Written on the Body or Sexing the Cherry
• Gary Oldman in a music store, to sign a copy of the soundtrack to The Fifth Element in silver. (don't ask)