For the man, it was just another night full of dreams.
They were so regular, so insistent, that it became quite a normal occurrence to wake up with a head full of them still buzzing around. Dreams about power. Power over others. There were lots of people he didn’t like, several groups of them, in fact. In his dreams he had ideas regarding a solution to the problem of ridding himself of the unwanted. People that he considered to be inferior. He had explained all this in his book, although he has often wondered whether that was a good idea. He could do much more than just write about it; so much more, but did he really want to do any of that? Let’s face it, he wanted the top job. He knew he could make a difference, but for the good, surely! He could sweep the place clean; promote the idea of toleration between the groups. There had been a number of electoral victories of late. Maybe the time was right. Maybe his time was right, for him to do good.
There were dreams he’d been having of the mass extermination of particular peoples. He had to be realistic; they were just dreams. There were definitely groups of citizens that he had no time for, but the idea of genocide didn’t really sit at all well with him. Not now, in his waking hours, thinking about it seriously. No, he wanted to be remembered for the good that he’d do for the country. He had no idea why he had fostered such evil thoughts of mass murder. Absolutely not; he didn’t want future generations to remember him for that!
The fact was that in just a few short weeks he could be made chancellor, and after his time in the post he would like to be remembered as Adolf the Good!
In the bathroom, he stood giving extra attention to the small moustache beneath his nose.
He paused, looking at himself in the mirror. He thought again about being remembered as Adolf the Good.
“Yes, I’d like that,” he murmured.