I dreamt that Adolf Hitler and I had become very good friends. Having spent many years behind bars, he had become a different man. Accepting his responsibility for so many horrors of World War II, he turned into a sage. Calm and easy-going, he was a pleasure to be with. If I remember well, we even lived in the same house. Considerably older than me, he was a spiritual guide of sorts. In my dream, he also looked rather well. His face was hardly wrinkled, his hair was gray only in places, and he was in pretty good shape. There was a beatific air around him at all times. For all these reasons, I was quite fond of him. He seemed to be fond of me, too. We never talked about the past, though. Both of us focused squarely on the present. This is where his peaceful and even-tempered ways were an inspiration for me. When I woke up, I did my best to remember as much as possible from the dream, but very little of it stayed with me through the morning.