I had another dream about George Bush last night. In the dream it was nighttime, and I was at some kind of fancy Spanish-style rambling estate/hotel; the sort of place with a big fountain out front and a bunch of separate outbuildings and bungalows and gardens and winding paths. There was an event going on with lots of dignitaries, and I can’t remember why I was there; that was from the early part of the dream, and it’s fuzzy. Because this was one of those dreams that goes on and on and on.
(The last dream, where I was Colin Powell, only covered a few seconds of in-dream time. But this one, where I was just myself, took hours. At least, the plot that was covered in the dream stretched across that kind of time. The dream itself, I realize, was probably pretty quick.)
Anyway, I was at this rambling estate/hotel, and somehow I ended up in this smallish group that the president was interacting with. Maybe I was hanging out with the president’s web guys, or something. I was talking to them, and then Bush just kinda showed up. And I’m acting the way I act when I’m around a celebrity, which is to just try to act cool and natural and not make a scene, since I know the celebrity gets people acting weird all the time, and I’d rather just be a normal person to them.
And somehow it develops that Bush wants to leave this event. He wants to duck out, get away from all his handlers and retinue. He gives me the keys to his limo (which in the dream I keep wanting to refer to as “Air Force One,” even though I realize that’s wrong; it’s not his airplane, it’s just his car). He asks me to go get his coat (which is checked at the hat check), and get his limo, and meet him “over by that yellow house, over there” (pointing to this house a short ways away). And I’m like, “in the street over there, in front of the house?” and he’s like, “no, at the house itself.” And I say, “okay,” and I set off on my mission.
I get the coat pretty easily. It’s in a garment bag, like you use on a plane. So I’ve got the keys to the president’s limo, and I’m carrying this garment bag with the president’s coat in it, and I’m trying to find the limo so I can drive it over to this appointed place. And I’m wandering all over, taking more and more time, and I just can’t find the limo.
At one point I’m passing a big group of people lined up outside one of the buildings, and I see my wife and her brother and maybe some other people I know in the line. (They’re here for the same reason that brought me to the place, whatever that reason was. But we weren’t together when the whole Bush thing happened.) And I run up to my wife, and I’m telling her the whole story, and showing her the keys, and then I tell her I’ve gotta go; the president is waiting for me.
And then I realize hey, the limo isn’t just going to be parked out somewhere where I can find it; it’s going to be valet parked in some obscure underground lot. So I need to find the valets.
Now I’m trying to find my way to the main entrance of the hotel, which you’d think would be pretty easy, but I can’t seem to even do that. And finally I come across a weird little door leading into the building, and it looks sort of familiar, so I open it and go inside, and there’s another little door after that, and I open that and go through, and it’s dark in there, so I turn on the lights to find I’m in a little tiny room, almost a closet.
I realize that there’s a small bed against one wall, and someone is sleeping in it. So I try to quietly slip back out, but the person in the bed wakes up, and he’s this young black guy with dreadlocks. I apologize to him for barging in and waking him, and I explain what I’m doing, and he turns out to be really helpful. I gather that he works at the hotel in some housekeeping or maintenance capacity. And he’s nodding and saying yeah, we’ve gotta call the parking guys on extension 300, and he takes me back outside and we’re looking for some other hotel staffmember with a phone or a radio or somesuch.
And then I was blinking in the early morning light in my bedroom, and the sense of urgency that had been growing over the course of the dream (hurry up! the president is waiting!) gradually ebbed away.
The Swift boat ads, and Bush’s gains in the polls, have me worried. He’s setting the agenda, and his opponents (like me, and Kerry) are running around on stupid errands when they should be focusing on their own tasks. Also, my obsession with Bush is keeping me away from my wife and family.
Why am I letting him consume me like this? I need to lighten up. I don’t want him in my dreams. It isn’t healthy.