Weird dream crushes

Every so often I will wake from a dream with a guilty feeling that I have cheated on the Boy Wonder. Exciting though this may sound (or repellent, depending on your point of view) I should confess now that even in my dreams I am never actually unfaithful to the Boy Wonder, so the kind of romps that I enjoy with my dream crushes tend to be chastely affectionate hugs, chatting about subjects of mutual interest and the general feeling that I am important to someone. None of these are things that our relationship is lacking, but I assume that these dreams are the playing out of some kind of Freudian tomfoolery not least because the men involved are rarely age-appropriate but also because there is an element of revisiting the people who I idolised in childhood.

Last night's dream featured Hugh Laurie who filled a kind of avuncular role as the provider of a meal whilst we discussed books and shared innocent albeit slightly flirtatious hugs. Even as a child, I always like Hugh Laurie, probably because he was an adult who acted like a child, and his recent appearances on television combine my old affection for him with his current New Orleans connection. Either way, I awoke with a slightly guilty feeling of inappropriate behaviour tinged with a sudden urge to gaze at a picture of Hugh Laurie imagining that he was a friend of my parents who I would occasionally get to hug.

I'm assuming that the Boy Wonder wouldn't feel particularly threatened by this, not least because whenever his dreams feature real people they are always dead musicians who have come back to life to play guitar with him, which I suppose is along the same wish fulfilment lines as my desire to squeeze Hugh Laurie. If not though, I can rest assured that the fact he never reads this will protect him from the knowledge that his wife is a faithless weirdo who secretly wants to read books with popular comedians and then discuss them over a nice meal.

Inapropriate Helpfulness

Tonight, whilst watching the Boy Wonder play, a couple got up from the sofa near us and I noticed that the woman had left her jumper behind. I was about half a second away from snatching it up and chasing after her when I realised that they were just at the bar getting more drinks and I was a little disappointed that I wouldn't get to be the kind of helpful soul cliché that restores people's faith in humanity. This left me even more convinced that one of the main motivators for acts of kindness towards strangers (at least on my part) is the warm fuzzy feeling of helping your fellow humans.

In part, I suspect this was fuelled by last night's feel good opportunities: the Boy Wonder was playing at a venue in London which was only accessible by a road which had been blocked off due to roadworks. It became clear that prior to the roadworks it was possible to get through to somewhere else, so after watching a couple of people walk all the way down and then turn back when they realised they couldn't get through I started helpfully pointing out to people that they couldn't get anywhere. They were all grateful for the knowledge which allowed them to save a few seconds and not look like a pillock and I felt like a good Samaritan for helping them out. It didn't really matter that the time it took me to explain to them was around the same length of time it took most people to work it out for themselves, because instead of a neutral observer, I was a helpful contributor which I found satisfying.

Presumably most people who are motivated to help others gain at least some gratification from doing so, in which case can they really be considered truly altruistic acts? Is it still even vaguely altruistic if you start to feel vaguely resentful to people who turn out not to need your help when you were already prepared for the feeling of doing a good thing? I'm pretty sure that I'm not a terrible person, even that I am more helpful than most, but is it really appropriate to begin to have secretly resentful feelings for a girl who just left her cardy on a sofa when she went to get a drink?