Dream. I’m trying to explain to a woman what I’ve been spending all my time on for the past two years, and I make a sketch in my notebook of a symbol I’m sure will help her understand. It’s supposed to be a German Army Iron Cross, but I’m just too clumsy and can’t get it to look right. The drawing comes out as a crude, inept jumble.
Analysis: The German Cross is often used on old maps to indicate where a treasure was buried. My botched attempt is nevertheless accurate after all, because it suggests the real nature of the treasure hasn’t yet been defined. We don’t know yet WHAT was buried there, do we?
The discovery of a treasure could bring something bad, like that of the alleged curse that descended upon Lord Carnarvon shortly after his employee Howard Carter opened pharaoh Tutankhamun’s tomb. Of course the curse didn’t come from the ancient Egyptians but rather from the yellow press, whipped into a frenzy by a warning from a second-rate novelist named Mari Corelli. She said there would be dire consequences for anyone who entered the boy king's tomb. A couple weeks later, on April 5, 1923, Lord Carnarvon died…from an infected mosquito bite.
More dream speculation: Some treasure maps may be genuine, but most are fakes foisted upon the gullible & greedy by clever shysters. Also, the Iron Cross was once a symbol of valor of a noble army, but the Nazis put ugly stains all over it. And then everyone knows authentic treasure is hard won. The riches that come too easily have a hidden price, usually later paid dearly.
Now, listen. I didn’t seek the treasure map. It was thrust upon me by the woman I love. She said, “Please help me!” I said I would.
I don’t need to acquire wealth because I already have it, here on my beautiful island. I lack nothing. I’m surrounded by the beauty of scenery and a rich history. The food is good. The weather mild. The sea is lovely in all seasons.
But along the way I've learned it's essential that I keep my promises.
And that's precisely what I intend to do.