I love any test of my encyclopaedic knowledge, and stumbling across this test while palely loitering in the Internet's alleyways, found its challenge irresistible.

Eerily, the very next day Donald Trump performed his now famous photo opportunity, standing in front of a dear old church and brandishing a Bible. Democrat presidential hopeful Joe Biden commented that perhaps Trump should actually open and read a Bible instead of just holding and waving one. Biden was echoing the strong suspicion that Trump, who never reads anything, is probably as ignorant of the Bible as he is of all English Literature.

How would Trump go in the same multiple-choice Bible knowledge test that I took and that, in spite of my tragic atheism, I passed with Honours, relying on all I remember from my Anglican childhood? What revealing fun it would be to, for him, throw in some trick questions like "With what did Our Redeemer miraculously feed the 5,000 beside Galilee? Was it (a) Big Macs, (b) Loaves and Fishes, (c) Dunkin' Donuts?"

"At the wedding feast at Cana what did Jesus convert water into? Was it (a) Starbucks White Chocolate Mocha Frappuccinos, (b) wine, (c) McDonald's Triple Thick Milkshakes?"

One can just see his tangerine-coloured brow furrowed by these demanding questions.

In the Bible quiz in which I scored a creditable 33 Trump might, with charitable marking by a Republican member of Congress, score a seven or eight. But somehow the thought that one is the POTUS' intellectual superior in every way is of no consolation as one struggles with the psychological pain of his unbearability. Yes, one knows the Bible better than he does, but I am just a powerless little essayist while he is, somehow, The Leader of the Free World.

... and in a recent, impossible-to-forget column I mentioned the now famous phenomenon of pandemic dreaming. It is the well-documented phenomenon of the lockdown's anxieties impacts on how and what we are dreaming now.

I shared with you a pandemic dream of my own in which as the male in a breeding pair of newspaper journalists I was in a queue of animal pairs waiting to go aboard what at first was Noah's lifesaving Ark but then morphed (as things will in dreams) into the hellish Ruby Princess.

Since writing that piece I have discovered and now alert this column's teeming, dreaming readers to the wondrous blog "i dream of covid", at idreamofcovid.com

Your columnist is beguiled by it but give the descriptive singing of its praises to Sophie McBain of the New Statesman who has just interviewed the blog's founder Erin Gravley.

"Gravley," McBain reports "was intrigued by [a distinguished writer's] suggestion that as well as offering insight into an individual's subconscious, dreams could shed light on our communal experiences."

"She posted a message on Instagram asking if anyone had experienced coronavirus dreams that they would be willing to share with her. A handful of people responded. On a whim, she created a website, idreamofcovid.com, to collect and publish dreams. The website went live on 26 March and it 'took off' in a way she hadn't expected. Gravley now spends at least an hour a day reading through strangers' dreams. 'It feels very intimate,' she said."

"Visit idreamofcovid.com," McBain recommends, "and you can browse strangers' dreams and you can browse strangers' dreams chronologically, by location or by theme, from 'animals' to 'Zoom.'

"It's a surreal, poignant, often darkly comic online archive. The peculiarity of dreams, their abstraction, emotional intensity and crude symbolism, makes them feel universal: my dreams could be your dreams. Someone dreams that masks have become part of our faces, that people have started smuggling themselves out of their homes in shipping boxes, that they were disqualified from a post-pandemic global sex tape competition because they had hallucinated their partner and were just having air sex."

MORE IAN WARDEN:

"Each [posted] dream is illustrated with a delicate, whimsical drawing made by Gravley's 24-year-old sister, Grace."

Here's the kind of posted thing. In the blog this dream comes with Grace's delicate, whimsical drawing of one of those stylish cat's collars decorated with a little jewellery: idreamofcovid.com/dreams/nice-family

"Paris. May 6. I have been quarantined alone in a 16-square-meter studio in Paris for over two months now. My street is narrow, and my only window faces the apartment of a nice family (husband, wife, toddler and cat). I don't know them, but since the lockdown we have started politely waving at each other any time we both happen to be at the window.

"Last night I dreamt that we were close friends and I was invited to a very upscale event they were having in front of the Pantheon to celebrate their cat's wedding."

Here is another, this time with a spiritual dimension: idreamofcovid.com/dreams/vision

"Louisiana. May 8. I dreamed a beautiful vision of the coronavirus. I saw it as tremendously huge and beautiful. It appeared to be boxlike and colourful but I felt I was looking at a manifestation of god. I had fallen asleep on my screened-in porch during a storm. On awakening I felt pleasant and the storm had passed."

The strange beauty of this archive of hot-off-the-pillow dream reports is that it gives all of us (surely most of us?) who are doing pandemic dreaming now a comforting kind of international camaraderie. It says that we are all in this (at the moment dreaming fantastical things) together.