Might I tell you about a dream I had? It won’t take long, my friend. Please, sit. Take off your coat. Have some coffee. Shall I tell you of my dream? Very well… Last night I dreamt I met an Iraqi man, his teenage daughter and nine year old son. It was almost six in the evening, in my dream. Six at night, like it is now. The light was almost taken from the sky. ...Yes. Like it is now. Yes. They wearily stepped onto the porch. I went to the door and I opened the screen and it screeched terribly, startling the boy. After a moment of awkwardness I said, Dear weary travelers you may enter this house You may eat of my food and drink of my water. Please. For in the end we are these things, or at least I believe we become them. Why not share, right? ...Come, my friends, sit. Rest your tired legs, there’ll always be plenty of time for walking. They entered and sat near one another on the couch. I served them water. This seemed to calm their nerves a bit. Mine too. What? Oh. No. I wasn’t nervous
(The Weaver's Song)