It was an uncommon moonless evening in North Korea. Rocketman was fast asleep like a chubbier panda bear. It was an ozone alert, gloomy, hazy and grey day in Washington D.C., and as usual, the dotard was napping. This was his lifestyle. If there were no tv cameras trained on him, he was snoozing.
The two entities were sharing dream space, and it was not a pretty sight, unless you’re into a barren post-apocalyptic zone. Death and smoldering were omnipresent, lots of smoldering, believe me.