Malarial Dreams (1977)

In West Africa in the late 1970s I would have the most vivid dreams, dreams rocking with the intensity and flash of great literature and blockbuster movies. The dreams derived from Aralen, a daily anti-malarial drug that produced  nightly video in my head and a slight helping of psychosis on the side.

Tuesday, August 17, 1977
Idi Amin and I were in his Kampala garden.

He asked me to re-tune his shortwave radio and the request made me suspicious. I thought he was going to shoot me. He was talking in a most pleasant voice and when I stood, he said something funny and shook my hand.
I felt a thumbtack press into my palm and knew immediately I was going to die. 
"Oh no, Idi," I cried. "Not the handshake of death."
"Yes," said Idi Amin, very matter of factly, and he walked away to let me die.

Monday, September 5, 1977
I made it into the movie magazines as the latest fling of a beautiful blonde movie actress. She was a gorgeous grouch who hated all the people tailing her all the time. We were in restaurants a lot and she was always insulting people.