I dreamed last night that I was Bradley Manning's court-appointed... well, hand-holder, I guess, and he was delivered to me in a large dog crate in a shopping cart, wasted and broken from umpteen months of solitary confinement. Nobody seemed to notice when I pulled him out of the crate and carried him around the warehouse like a baby, rocking him to make him stop crying. He weighed as much as a kitten. Finally a large staff sergeant in old-school woodland BDUs saw us and made me put Manning back in his crate, and wheeled him away.

Not sure what that was all about.