I do not remember my dreams, nightmares. Those that are called to front of the mind are the strangest. On Monday morning I woke and was able to recall the fantasy of the night. I dreamed myself within the Arctic circle; in a high vaulted church (reminiscent of the Hallgrimskirkja), sitting with my mother. We were attending a wedding (and I knew it to be a wedding). The procession down the aisle began, two men were getting married (an impossibility in Australia); my mother and I were surprised and pleased. My overwhelming dream-thoughts were that my crazed Pentecostal uncle (a simulacra of a brother of my father), who was sitting behind us, would be enraged by the event. I turned to see him shouting silent obscenities at the hammerbeams. The church broke open with applause for the couple; the sky poured in.