So. As I may possibly have mentioned here before, ever since I was very young I've had a happy recurring dream about travelling to a seaside resort - by bike through a wooded valley, on foot over a land of short sandy grass and flitting swallows, or even in a small steam train across water meadows. The resort, when I eventually arrive, is modest and old fashioned, and over the years I've judged all real seaside places by how far they resemble it. Last night I had one of these dreams for the first time in a long time. But somehow Gatsby had leaked in, and with it several other fictional characters, including Tristram Shandy's Uncle Toby, Arriety from The Borrowers, and not a few Homeric warriors, who proceeded to hack at each other in a recreational way on the beach. Eventually, somebody (and it may have been Toby) suggested that, rather than fight now, they should reconstruct a totally different argument they'd all had years before, and he would take it on himself to distribute parts and scripts. Everyone agreed enthusiastically, and my dream faded out with the final words of The Great Gatsby: "And so they all stayed there happily for ever. Well, most of them."
I awoke shortly after, and quickly ploughed through the last fifty pages to see how accurate my dream had been. At a crude surface level I think I must conclude, "Not very." But for what it's worth, I offer my dream as an honest contribution to Fitzgerald studies.