It really must be admitted that things seen in sleep are, as it were, painted images, which could have been produced only in the likeness of true things.--Rene Descartes, Discourse on Method and Meditations on First Philosophy [1]
Fowl take flight as an unearthly entourage of powerful male nudes, infant victims, an old crone, goats, and strange skeletal yet animate creatures rush along to the sound of a horn, perhaps also wind and wailing. A solitary witch squats amid the ...