Thomas Ligotti and Boris Yeltsin in his Underpants

I dreamt a few nights ago of my grandfather's house at Stone in Worcestershire. The house was haunted as always. Dark brick work and stairways neatly avoided. A gathering of shadows I was investigating. Nan was there too - she died new years eve 1983 - and she told me in the dream that 'the white house is burning again'. I woke up at this point with that feel of encroaching supernatural presence.

A dream last night which was the polar opposite of the above. I was reading a story by my favourite author, Thomas Ligotti. For anyone who has never read Thomas Ligotti, well, imagine Franz Kafka writing post-modern horror. Not a very good description but you get the general idea. Anyhow, in the dream, I was reading a story I had never read before by him. It was a short two page story, more a vignette really, and concerned a certain photograph that would send anyone who looked at it insane. The story built up over that two pages, building up to the climax where the subject of this blasphemous photograph was revealed.
It was Boris Yeltsin in his underpants.
In the dream I was furious; what was Ligotti thinking of? Was he taking the piss? Had someone else pirated the book and inserted their own nonsensical ending?
I woke up and couldn't stop laughing...
I have no idea where this dream came from.