Late in my dream I discovered that the important thing had escaped from the engine and so I began to make friends with the mud of my new home. I discovered that you had given up on sleeping and a cold dry woman told me to go home and stop knocking. She said Daddy wasn’t planning on buying no more stuff. When I woke up there was a little pouch under my pillow, sewn from the rough-haired leather of a pig’s ear and the little pouch was empty. I went in and looked at myself naked under the naked light bulb and a spider backed away into the corner. I was looking through the different kinds of pills I have left over from the last time we fought this war, and I couldn’t find the one I need-- but now I’m gonna sing you a lullaby so at least we’ll have something.