Dreampt I was climbing a mountain- not the ropes and carabiner type of climbing, but the steep incline climbing- and when i got to the top there was a little pond and the Dalai Lama was fishing in it. I thought the fishing was a bit incongruous with his nature but I didn’t say anything.

I joined him, and we fished together for a while, when Dr Ruth Westheimer appeared out of the Lama’s little house. She was arranging her clothes and drinking Arak from a bottle. The lama looked at me and grinned. Even I get to have a vacation, he said.

We caught some fish and roasted them on sticks over a fire the way I saw Africans doing it and ate in relative quiet. We heard noise coming from some distance out, and I grabbed my binoculars and looked down the trail to see Rosie O’Donnell headed toward us, huffing and puffing and yelling something unintelligible through a megaphone.

Dr Ruth went into the house and came out with a white painted M28 and using iron sights popped off a shot so quick you couldn’t imagine she’d even had time to aim.

Downtrail about a half mile, Rosie just stood there. A few seconds later, she dropped the megaphone, and blood began to squirt out of a hole directly between the eyes and run out of that hole and also out of her nose. She had the same empty look on her face as she dropped facedown into the shingle as she’d had her whole life.

We went back to eating and I asked the lama, if this is your vacation can you eat meat too? Not that, he said, and i looked at him quizzically. O’Donnell isn’t kosher said Dr Ruth and I woke up before I could tell him that I was talking about a cheeseburger or something. Who would eat Rosie O’Donnell?