i must have slept again because in the morning i remembered bits and pieces of a disjointed nightmare that had something to do with navajo indians and mares milk and sheeps blood and vats of boiling goats heads and a huge wild boar whose screams of pleasure when mounting a sow were indistinguishable from his screams of pain when he was being butchered by the ax-wielding political officer from the brigade who never stopped smiling , but it was hardly a restful night .