I had another piece of the dream, this morning.  It was tiny, just a fragment. But it seemed utterly and completely real. And, before anyone says anything: yes, my head is a strange place, sometimes.

Peacocks rained, drowning from the sky. The garden was filled with uncaring men, who wiped the purple waters from their face, shouldered their rifles and moved forward. Loud speakers carried by automatons blared a rave version of the “Snake Dance”.