I had the following dream in 1984, while studying philosophy as a postgraduate student at an American university.

I was walking in a deep dark forest. It was twilight and the pine needles were soft and silent beneath my (bare?) feet. There were no birds or animals. I was walking towards a mountain whose brown rock I glimpsed between the trees. But I never seemed to be getting any closer to it. The mountain was my destination, but I seemed to be approaching it obliquely, skirting it. Again and again there was the same picture of the mountain through the trees on a small rise and myself walking diagonally across the scene, approaching the mountain crabwise.

And then the mountain lost its importance because up ahead there was a castle. (Only the castle was constructed on a rocky crag, so perhaps that was the mountain after all.) The castle was very close and a man came rushing from it to greet me. He was very enthusiastic and pressed his face right up to me.

"Heidegger is about to speak," he said. "You are just in time. Everybody is here. They all are seated. Come in, come in." He was fat and sweaty and his gold-rimmed glasses were steamed up. He was nobody I knew.

We walked together towards the bridge over the moat. "There is much excitement here today," he continued. "Preparations have been proceeding all morning so that the presentation could be made by luncheon. Printed programmes are provided. You will be acquainted, of course, with many of those invited."

I was growing a little nervous. (Was I dressed for the occasion?) Over the bridge and through the gate, we entered an enormous entrance hall. People thronged in every corner and over the lush green carpet. The lofty stone columns and overreaching arches amplified the din of thousands of animated conversations. Everybody was pleasantly drunk on white wine, blinking in the bright morning light. (Suddenly it was morning.) They stood in groups of five or six (mostly men) in suits and ties.

I recognised my school history teacher across the crowded room. He waved to me, smiled and raised his glass. There was a professor from Cambridge, telling another man a smutty story. At the climax they both doubled up and wheezed. Everywhere I turned there were my past and present teachers. My school gym teacher, surrounded by interested members of the Yale faculty, was telling a long anecdote that involved him (by way of demonstration?) crawling on all fours.

The fat man bustled through the crowd to my side. "I have recently been attending to last-minute technicalities," he said. "Everything is now in hand. We must begin the seating in the auditorium. Ladies and gentlemen! Your attention please. We request that you repair yourselves. Please return your glasses to their proper trays. The films will begin shortly."

It took a good ten minutes to get everybody in. Even as the lights went down there were stragglers groping and guffawing in the aisles.

The first film was Life on the Tundra. Wind-swept scenery. A group of reindeer mooching about on a hillside. There followed four or five more films--short, educational productions.

During Peoples of the Congo the audience began to fidget. Someone at the back said loudly "We want Marty Heidegger", and those around him laughed heartily. Looking along my row, I could see my teachers past and present gesticulating at each other and then at the screen. Some were annoyed, others amused. The camera rose high over the jungle for a farewell shot, and the credits rolled. Ironic cheers and applause.

The screen remained blank for a few moments, and there was a flickering of upside-down numbers. A crackly old fanfare heralds a plane emerging from low cloud to land on an airstrip. Shades of Munich. There is a voice-over, American:

"Martin Heidegger, Germany's leading philosopher, arrives in the New World for the first time. Thousands of cheering supporters turn out on this damp November morning to greet their hero. They have waited a long time for this moment." (The camera pans along the crowd, whose individual members reach out to the camera with waving flags and screaming holes in their faces like tentacles of a sea monster.)

"Even to them this man is an enigma, a recluse, but hailed by many as the greatest philosopher of all time. This visit will give the American people a chance to take a closer look at this man and his mysterious teachings." (Cut to Heidegger (chubby, bald) descending the steps of the plane accompanied by three or four men. Reporters and cameramen have gathered at the bottom of the steps, and an impromptu news conference is set up, with Heidegger standing on the tarmac surrounded by his interlocutors.)

Q: Professor Herr Heidegger, how does it feel to be in the United States?

H: Bloody awful. The weather's lousy. They promised me sunshine and dancing-girls. Hahahahahaha. Dancing-girls, no? Hahahahahaha. With the chubby little bottoms? Eh?

Q: Professor Heidegger, could you tell us when your next book will coming out?

H: I could but I won't, you little runt. You Americans are such ignorant dirty pigs that you couldn't understand one of my books if you had a German explain it to you! Hahahahahaha.

Q: Professor Heidegger, how long will you be staying in the United States? There seems to be some confusion about your plans.

H: I shall stay until you Yanks cough up the dough. Then back to dear old Bavaria. Out of this stinking rat-hole. No? Haha.

Q: Herr Professor, could you give us some thoughts on the current world situation?

H: These damned American women will be running the world before too long.

Thank God I'll be dead and rotting. With their long legs and their suntans and their ponytails. Expect the whole world to fall down and kiss their little footsies. Bah! Amazons!

Q: Professor Heidegger, what are you most looking forward to in your visit to the United States?

H: The ham and eggs you cook here, no? That is all, ham and eggs. Hahaha.

Q: Professor Heidegger, what do you think of the future of Europe?

H: Ham and eggs, ham and eggs. Hahahahaha. Ham and eggs. Hahahaha.

There is pandemonium in the auditorium as members of the audience rise to their feet and shout and gesticulate at the screen.

Heidegger, bent double, has sunk to the ground under the weight of his mirth. His shoulders heave and he raises his head to say once more through tears of laughter: "Ham and eggs, ham and eggs!"