I took three wines in for valuation and possible sale: 1982 Haut Brion, an old Burgundy and a highly regarded Super Tuscan. The place is managed by a friend. The woman who I dealt with announced that the cork in the Super Tuscan was leaking, pulled it, and promptly poured wine all over the inside of the box to show me it was oxidised.
I left for a bit, and when I returned, she told me she had tried to “auction” the wines (without my permission), but nobody would buy them without tasting, so she had opened the bottles and was giving away samples. Unfortunately (according to her) the BDX was "closed’ and tasted like a beefsteak, and the Burgundy tasted like “Big Eye Tuna”. So she wasn’t able to sell these bottles which were now down to about an inch left in each. No mention of the whereabouts of the Super Tuscan was made. My friend who manages the place was dissinterested.
This has been bothering me all morning.
Should I be upset about whatever the hell my mother did in my childhood to cause such dreams? (nightmares actually)
Hell yes, you should be upset. You are a prime candidate for a visit with Dr. Phil or Maury Povich. I’ve felt this way for a long time. Hope this helps.