| He was alone and, even to his sharp eyes, there was not a single person to be seen. Sleep overcame the king (i.e. Lugalbanda) -- sleep, the country of oppression; it is like a towering flood, like a hand demolishing a brick wall, a hand raised high, a foot raised high; covering like syrup that which is in front of it, overflowing like syrup onto that which is in front of it; it knows no overseer, knows no captain, yet it is overpowering for the hero. And by means of Ninkasi's wooden cask (i.e. with the help of beer), sleep finally overcame Lugalbanda. He laid down ilinnuš, pure herb of the mountains, as a couch, he spread out a zulumḫi garment, he unfolded there a white linen sheet. There being no …… room for bathing, he made do with that place. The king lay down not to sleep, he lay down to dream -- not turning back at the door of the dream, not turning back at the door-pivot. To the liar it talks in lies, to the truthful it speaks truth. It can make one man happy, it can make another man sing, but it is the closed tablet-basket of the gods. It is the beautiful bedchamber of Ninlil, it is the counsellor of Inana. The multiplier of mankind, the voice of one not alive -- Zangara, the god of dreams, himself like a bull, bellowed at Lugalbanda. Like the calf of a cow he lowed:
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