Book report and a dream

I didn't write anything yesterday because I began reading a book and couldn't put it down: THE JAKARTA METHOD by Vincent Bevins, subtitled: "Washington's Anticommunist Crusade & the Mass Murder Program that Shaped Our World". 

So that's my book report, now here's my dream (which I just now awoke from)...

I was walking through a vast marketplace early in the morning. Everyone was asleep, and all the day's new merchandise had recently been delivered, so there were goods of all kinds stacked before each and every kiosk (all the vendors had kiosks). The place was at once an outdoor labyrinth and an enclosed hotel. So my squire and I were alone, wandering thru this maze of shops whose items, which would normally be sold from behind the counter, were lying on pallets within arm's reach of passersby. And, as we went on our way, I kept taking things that I needed: I grabbed a few white dress-shirts from a clothing retailer; I took a classic business suit with matching pants; also a leather belt; a pair of polished leather shoes; and a necktie. Then I used my other arm to grab a package of elegant pajamas that came with a bright red bathrobe. 

Now, with my business suit and accessories in one arm and my robe and pajamas in the other, I started looking for a place to stay; because, as I said, this open-air marketplace doubled as an indoor hotel. Hoping to find a vacancy, I passed door after door, but every single one was closed. I turned to my squire and said "What's this — all the living creatures on this planet had the foresight to reserve themselves rooms, but the Son of God must reside within thick clouds of darkness?" And my squire laughed at my remark, because he knew that the next few moments would be unpleasant if he reacted honestly. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a part of the wall where, instead of another locked door, there was an opening that led to a well-lit, furnished antechamber. I paced forward and entered. 

Suddenly a clerk pushing a cart of high cuisine appeared and asked "Are you here to occupy the luxury suite?" 

"Yes," I said. 

Then the clerk gestured toward the merchandise that I was still holding: "Are those your things?" he asked. 

"Yes," I said.

So that's how I began to live the Good Life inside my dream this morning. I had my business suit to wear during the daytime, and my nightclothes for sleeping. My routine was to go about and strike up friendships with everyone I met; and I would embrace and caress the ladies. Then, when my workday was over, I would return to my rooms, and my squire would help me take off my suit and put on my pajamas and robe. Overnight my suit would be laundered, so that it was fresh and cleanly pressed for the next adventure. (I never needed to dress myself; I would simply lie on my bed with my legs together and my arms in a 'T'-position, like Christ on the cross, and my squire would adorn me with my white shirt, my black suit and pants, also my leather shoes and belt; then he would tie my necktie so that it looked perfect. But I would wait until my squire left the room; then I'd untie the tie and redo it myself: The knot that I would make was rather sloppy, which somehow seemed more stylish than the "done correctly" look.) I always ate well; and, no matter the hour, I remained sophisticatedly inebriated, for the hotel staff kept my favorite type of spirits faithfully stocked.