[Dream, 15 February 1975]
ime: ca 1944. Place: Nazi occupied Oregon (more or less). I am acting as a front for a bunch of Jewish refugees who resemble uncannily certain members of the Fourth Plain gang and some of [my step-brothers] and who are hiding out here. I am trying to fix myself something to eat. There are four eggs; I begin scrambled eggs and immediately my refugees turn up and appropriate them as I finish. I fix bacon with the same result. We are about out of all food. I am considering attempting a stew with dog food as the principal ingredient, while the refugees hold a drunken party, turning the house into a shambles. I locate a box of muffin mix and have just got the stuff into the oven when a sleek black car pulls up the driveway. It’s the SS. Quickly I sound a warning and the refugees vanish into the false back to the closet (Note: I was never able to figure out where they hid. I couldn’t find the false back and when I paced out the house I couldn’t find any place unaccounted for that they could be hiding in. But no matter.) A single figure gets out of the car and comes in. It is Joseph Goebbels. He thinks I’m harboring refugees. I can’t imagine what gave him the idea in view of our circumspect behavior. He eats my muffins, the last food in the house. I lecture him about intellectuals and explain why a true Machiavellian will have nothing to do with an intellectual (like Goebbels) while he demands to know where the refugees are. Munching on a muffin he paces the house, looking for the hiding place. I explain that I already tried that and it didn’t work. Goebbels explains that Teutonic thoroughness will pay off where Anglo-Saxon slothfulness fails. Somewhere in here I woke up.