for Benazir Bhutto
I dreamt about Benazir Bhutto this morning. National Public Radio got all mixed up in my dreams. Bhutto was with me — we were putting on make-up in the bathroom. In this dream, Steve and I were living where we always live in my dreams — some kind of huge family compound, with lots of rooms and mazes and a huge courtyard with lots of trees and plants.
(Our family friend, A, moved to Amman, Jordan a few years ago, to be with her husband’s family. My “dream home” is how I imagine her family’s home looks, I suppose. I’ve never given it much thought until now, this dream house/compound that always stars in my dreamworld.)
Benazir Bhutto was putting on her eyeliner. She was very beautiful, and very much alive, but she was preparing herself for her funeral. (I thought, You can do that? Why doesn’t everyone do that? How clever she is.)
“Why did this happen this way?” she asked me.
I told her, “I don’t know.”
“It did not have to happen this way,” she said.
I told her, “I know. I’m so sorry.”
And she walked out the door.
, 
.
You have some very, very interesting dreams. Last dream I had was about fighting zombies. It was the same night I finished World War Z, so it makes some sense.
December 28th, 2007 | #
Wow. You just made me sad all over again.
December 31st, 2007 | #