I was stuck in the posh apartment of an obscure Kennedy. He and his wife were there when I arrived but had to brusquely excuse themselves to attend to some family emergency. I was pleased to have the run of the place but chagrined when I saw a clock and it was 1:30 in the afternoon – I realized I'd have to stay there alone for the entire day and night, unable to leave until they returned as I had no keys. I sat down to watch TV in the den and they had an ancient remote control, from the '70s. I couldn't quite understand how to make it work. I found a button that chose a random channel and the channel it found was the Pants Channel. All about pants. I found this amusing. Then I switched again and I saw a news report about bombings in Baghdad, and suddenly I was in Baghdad, watching the aftermath of the bombings with a crowd of ghoulishly curious Westerners. The main road into town was the road into Storrs, Route 195. In fact Baghdad was Storrs, though I didn't realize this in the dream, and the smoking debris from the bombings were buildings on the UConn campus on the west side of the road. People were breaching some kind of police or military barricade and defiantly entering town. Some had bags of ice, clearly a rare commodity there, with the intention of using it to party.

Also had a dream about the Super Bowl. The Steelers fumbled again in the red zone, like Bettis did against the Colts. A Seahawk recovered and ran with it and appeared to be headed for a touchdown when a Steeler tackled him from behind.

Then I dreamt about Mom. Curiously, she was in the States, and people were wondering if she wanted to go back to Paris for some reason. I thought she wouldn't, as Pierre was dead and he's the only reason she'd want to go. I had the disturbing thought that maybe she'd forgotten he was dead, or maybe forgotten about him altogether, in the advanced stages of her dementia.