After a decent bout in the gym earlier today I stretched out and dozed by a window that lets in the afternoon sun (cats will usually come and sit on you if you sleep there). Not quite asleep, I had a sudden hypnagogic vision of a midget Dick Cheney — well, sort of child-sized, except with a regular Dick Cheney head, little glasses and all — wearing a propeller beanie, otherwise attired in a T-shirt and short pants like any typical 1950’s child cartoon character, little bare legs and feet chugging through a similarly dated domestic interior while he looked back over his shoulder, waving his arms awkwardly overhead and cackling with merry, mocking laughter.

Anyone’s interpretation of this vision will be considered.

11 thoughts on “Phantasmagoria

    • There is that. But then why would something so obvious — and long established, in its way — come to me as a vision on the threshold of sleep? One would almost prefer Dr. James’ “Overall there is a smell of fried onions.”

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