Saturday, June 27, 2020

Better Than Insomnia

I'm not sure what to make of this. A blog post, maybe. But not a normal one.

See, for someone who's been accused of being creative all her life, I have the dumbest dreams ever. If there's a possibility of something interesting happening, like flying, or having sex with handsome strangers, I don't do it. In my dream I say "No thanks, you go ahead and fly, I'll just hop up and down a little." I say, "No thanks, sex sounds nice, but I need to get my laundry off the line before it rains." Invariably I stop short of something really satisfying, and instead do whatever I would ordinarily do in my ordinary but satisfying life.

And that's if I'm not trying to figure out how many Little Things go in a Big Thing. Or if I'm not missing my flight. Or if I'm not running around trying to find a clean, private toilet.

Sweet dreams aren't made of these.

So listen to this:

I dreamt there was a big mob in the street. Everyone was yelling. They'd heard there was going to be a hanging, and they were out for blood. The person who was going to be hanged was running for office, someone like Elizabeth Warren, although in my dream she looked like Maggie Smith. Donald Trump had told the crowd she was going to be hanged from the inside of a glass elevator shaft, and the mob was gathering around the building's parking lot to watch. Donald Trump was working the crowd. "Or maybe we won't hang her after all. Maybe..." He shrugged, put his palms up, milked the moment. The crowd roared. "Maybe we'll just let her drop a couple feet. A couple feet!" He's holding his tiny hands apart. "And then maybe we'll ask her a few questions. A few questions! I don't know! What do you think?" He shrugged again. The crowd screamed Hang her! Hang her!

I'm growing more and more horrified as I realize this thing is actually going to happen. I keep thinking there has to be a way to stop it, that things couldn't have gotten this far, that they can't really get away with this. I know the building. It's an apartment tower on my mail route, and I know which floor has the access to the elevator shaft. I punch a code to enter and race up six flights of stairs and fly down the hallway. When I open the door that leads to the elevator shaft, there's a pretty good crowd there too. Donald Trump is there. He is smirking and teasing and bobbing his head. People are laughing with him, but I don't get the sense that this crowd is all on his side--that maybe they are just cowed, afraid to intervene. I had in mind that I would yell out "No! We're not going to let you do this!" and all the good people would start hollering and stomping and get the gumption to rush the guards. They just need someone to break the spell. I'm waiting for the right moment.

Just then three men start leading Elizabeth Warren Maggie Smith toward the gibbet and she looks tense but dignified, like Marie Antoinette on the way to the Guillotine, and I about lose my mind. Instead of yelling, I lunge straight at Donald Trump and jump him and put my hands around his big squishy neck and throttle him for all I'm worth. He crumples to the floor and I'm kicking and strangling and stomping and he is soft and doughy like a bag of goo and can't defend himself at all, and every punch and kick lands, and I'm thinking, Well, this is it, I'm about to get shot or hauled off to prison or both, but it doesn't happen. Trump lies on the floor curled up like a fat, damaged larva and everyone stands and cheers, even the guards. And there are more and more of us cheering and we look down and the crowd in the parking lot is thinning fast, skulking away.

I really did dream that, all of that. And when I woke up, I really did think "I'd better not put this in a blog post, or I could get arrested." Because that's the kind of world we're living in today.

Or maybe it's the dream world.

32 comments:

  1. Wow! A scary dream... but with a satisfying ending. Hopefully, a prescient one.

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    1. It indicates to me that at least I have a smidgeon of hope.

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  2. I am sure there are thousands or probably millions of us who would be happy to help or take the fall for you if we could only get close enough. Uh oh, I think I hear sirens and see flashing lights. Gotta go!

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  3. Your dream reminds me of one that I had nearly 50 years ago in which I killed a thug. In my case, it signaled the point in my life at which I finally felt in control of my own life. Up until then, most of my non-trivial dreams had me in a situation in which I was unable to save my kids from disaster - you know the type where, no matter how hard/fast you run, you just can't move from the spot?

    Good luck with getting the feckless politicians under control.

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    1. Ooo, I haven't had one of those can't-move dreams in a long time. I'm usually on my hands and knees trying to get across a street in the dark and the cars come up fast. At least I don't have to save anybody. No kids. But, as I pointed out in my last post, you parents have to worry forever.

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    2. My kid related dreams usually had me choosing which one I had to save from avalanche, drowning, kidnapping etc and then when I woke up I was not only terrified but guilty.
      Trump has become an object of horrified fascination for our family. When he says "No one can tell me what the '19' means!" I literally scream "I live in a tiny town in the mid north of a sparsely populated state in Australia, dammit, and I know what it means!"
      If I see headlines about ex-postal worker taking the blimp down I'll know who it is.

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    3. Oh you're so right. The ex-postal worker is an EXCELLENT angle. Just gives it that much more juice.

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  4. I'm with ya. Let the Secret Service come find me. I blow a fart in their general direction.

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    1. That would be a fun demonstration! Thousands of people blowing farts at once.

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  5. I had a dream a couple of weeks ago where I was in a service position for Ivanka and family. I prepared a solution of bleach and water and served it to all. Watching them in pain I offered them some proposed knowing it would not save them but make them suffer longer. They had put a large man in a box and I was to take the man in a box to safety. The final scene was me leaving in my car calmly leaving the dead and dying and the box
    📦 behind. I seem to be on the same wavelengh.

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    1. Wow. Wow. You don't know who was in the box?

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    2. No but my best guess would be the Orange devil.

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  6. I hope you didn't get any damaged larva goo on your sweet self! And now I imagine you standing on top of that doughy blob, your hero cape unfurled behind you, hands on hips, a la Superman!

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  7. I seldom remember my dreams but that sure was satisfying one.

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    1. I'm remembering them a lot better now that I'm retired and can snooze in the mornings. And a lot of them aren't quite as dopey as they used to be.

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  8. Did you feel like you had to scrub your hands with bleach after you woke up?

    What a satisfying dream, although also tiring. Did you wake up exhausted?

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  9. When you do dream you make up for lost opportunities. And how I hope your dream is prescient.
    I dream in conversations. No images, just words (with the exception of one recurring nightmare which I haven't had for yonks).

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  10. Love this! You had me at 'bag of goo' and 'a fat, damaged larva' -- such accurate descriptions!

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  11. That's a very scary dream. I think you're safe from being arrested though. After all, if people got arrested for their dreams, half the country would be in jail. Fat, damaged larva sounds about right.

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  12. You're a Dream Hero, and now probably on Watch. *LOL* It would be a Public Service if someone were to remove him from Office, any kind of way, and replace him with a REAL Leader. He's more intent on creating a Culture War and Honoring Dead Confederates than he is on protecting the lives of the American People during an unprecedented Health Crisis that he's lost control of now. My take is that once he was told it's taking out the Old, the Poor, Minorities, Disabled, Sickly of Society, the ones he deems the Undesirables, he's of the opinion it's doing his Cleansing for him, the stuff of his perverse Wet Dreams.

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  13. I want you, all of you. I want to feel you inside me, deep inside me. I want you to tell me when you’re going to cum, hear you moan my name and fuck me harder. Click here and Check me out i am getting naked here ;)

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