Part eleven of the Ishmael Gradsdovic papers finds him still asleep...
Dream #1
I'm looking out from the back yard of my house on a hill -- a house kind of like the Ponderosa in Los Osos, but it isn't that house or that hill. I see movement of people at the base of the hill and notice that they seem to be a group of military personnel. Their non-camoflage uniforms make me believe that they are with the UN or on a training mission and I don't feel threatened by them. As they approach my house, eventually pausing in my front yard, I recognize the leader of the group as an acquaintance and I make fun of him for being in the military and trooping about with a bunch of G.I. Joe types. I joke with him that my house is actually a munitions storage facility for the Viet Cong and that it's booby-trapped to explode and is going to kill all his men. Unbeknownst to me, one of the troops is radioing for orders and my voice is carried over the line and the people at the other end get the impression that there has been a tremendous explosion and that everyone has been killed. A helicopter appears on the horizon, bringing an honor guard of marines with flag-draped coffins to pick up the corpses. Bill Clinton shows up to deliver a eulogy, and is a bit miffed when he finds out that everyone's okay. But since he's there anyway, he stays for a half hour or so chatting with us.
Dream #2:
I leave the tent where Bill Clinton is talking because I have to take a dump. I enter a door that I believe leads to the bathrooms, but I find myself in an overgrown courtyard full of toilets and old stone walls. Most of the toilets are full of excrement, and I have a hard time finding one empty enough to sit down on. Still, I end up staining my underwear on whatever sludge is stuck to the front of the bowl. Then, after all that, there's no toilet paper. I search around for some and find a box of kleenex and grab a few sheets, when a woman tsk tsks me and says that it's her kleenex and I shouldn't take any without asking first.
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