The dreamer awoke in a matted sop of his own sweat that smelled of yeast and vinegar. He pulled his elbow out from where it had been wedged between the wall and the mattress. The dream was gory as hell and probably brought on by his recent attempts to kick the desiccated tropic of capricorn. In the dream he was a lion tamer. One of the cats had snagged his arm through the bars of its cage and was slowly pulling it off at the shoulder joint. Calls for help were ignored or not heard. He held off from the magnum 45 in his holster that would easily bring the whole struggle to an end. As traumatic as the event was he was having trouble taking the cats life, and his own life would be less, now that the arm was a wreck...Afterward, the next scene was in the tamers caravan, face to palm...-A fictional account of Sigmund Freud's dream concerning his nephew Edward Bernays.
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