From a journal entry I wrote on the morning of September 10, 2021:

I just woke up from a dream in which I went to the Taliban’s Afghanistan to “see what would happen.” Ten minutes into the dream, I get apprehended and set up for interrogation and torture. Predominant feeling is disappointment at how dumb, sadistic, and unreligious my captor is, as though I was expecting a Taliban interrogation to be an academic seminar on the pros and cons of theocracy led by a latter-day Abul Ala’ Mawdudi rather than a torture session led by a bunch of illiterate psychopaths. (As it happens, Mawdudi was my father’s Arabic teacher in real life. Was Freud right? Are all dreams about wish fulfillment?)

Secondary feeling of indignation that anyone should presume to detain me, since I’m not bothering anyone and have the right to go where I please. Was about to tell the guy that it made no sense to detain me: I have a valid entry visa, so what’s the problem? Was irritated by his sadistic laughter and cigarette smoking in a cramped space. Can’t believe how bad my decision-making skills are, even in dreams. Not clear what I was doing in Afghanistan besides looking for trouble for its own sake. Which I can perfectly well do in New Jersey. There’s no place like home. Going back to sleep now.