In the first dream, it is night time, and I am in the dark corridor outside my bedroom. John Kerry, even taller than he actually is, is standing there in the shadows. He towers above me. He is standing very still. I hug him, barely reaching to his chest. It is not an erotic hug. It is the hug of a child seeking comfort from a trusted parent.
He has, I notice, tiny love handles.
In the second dream, I am being menaced by a terrible, powerful man, someone in authority, someone who, indeed, has my life in his hands. Knowing that it will enrage him, and jeopardize me, nonetheless I scream:
You fucking Nazi !