I had the strangest dream
that I was invited to attend the wedding of Pope Benedict/Ratzinger and Queen Elizabeth, through the well blooded niece of the girl I was dating/married to.
then it all dissolved and there was a battle on the plains, between the pillars of the hall, and I was general, and won, with the enemy dissolving
into goo and the pope (for he was the enemy) in bitter defeat.
and then sweet kisses of victory, and a weary aftermath in the evening, sun setting golden and breezes cool. a plate of grapes. some wine. a purple curtain undulating in the breeze.