[Dream, 15 February 1975]
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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.
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