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I had a distrubing dream the other night and I must admit, I wasn't terribly disturbed.
I found myself in an unfamiliar room with a concrete floor and no ceiling that I could discern. Virtually the only thing that I recognized in all the surroundings, was that Cheney, (yeah, that Cheney), was in prison orange, sitting under a bright, low hanging light, and some serious looking men in the shadows were discussing his role in the whole thing. Something of substance I had to suppose. I couldn't quite make out the details, but these men were discussing serious matters.
Cheney seemed to be holding his hands behind his back and was feigning his expected confidence, which always comes across as blatant arrogance. After some time, he started to say something when one of the men stepped toward him, pointed his finger directly at his nose, and with unmistakable authority said to him, " Do not speak detainee, until you are told to speak!" Cheney's customary sneer went noticably absent from his face.
There was a scattered collection of odd devices around the darkened room and a cloth covered table with an assortment of unfamiliar tools besides the pliers, and what looked like some dental instruments. There was even a syringe, not completely covered by a separate cloth. The bare, cinderblock walls were damp and sloppily constructed. A mild echo was in the room and I couldn't help noticing a wetness at the seated man's feet.
The men spoke in low voices and referred frequently to a stack of documents on another small table close by. One by one, the men would glance over their shoulders to look at the uncomfortable subject. One man was called on again and again to reply, "Yeah, that's his signature". I could see faint reflections on their faces of video that they viewed at regular intervals, countless times. Again, these men were very serious - and thorough. There was a distinct purpose - a mission at hand. They had all done this before.
At several points, I remember several in the group, one by one whispering, that "...no, that was the puppet Bush". Or "... some other nitwit."
And then, the muffled discussion began to slowly subside and one by one, the group turned toward the person seated at the table. And one man, largely obscured until this moment and obvioiusly in charge, studied and looked long and hard into Cheney's eyes while walking to the center of the table and asked him quietly, yet in no uncertain terms: "Mr Cheney, we intend on having the truth about a number of important matters. Would you prefer the easy way - or the hard way?"
And then I woke up and went to McDonalds to have breakfast.
Michael McCoy
