I was watching a news special about Hillary Clinton on TV, and she had two husbands -- one was Bill Clinton, but she was talking about her other husband. Her other husband was a college student in the United States who played Division One basketball, and whose father was from Libya. In the dream he was interviewed about Hillary and he sounded like he really loved her. He said he had a lot of pride in his roots and he wanted Hillary to learn more about Libya.
28 February 2008
I had a dream where Hillary Clinton and I got into a screaming fight. There were two parts to the dream. The first involved my irritating her by asking her an unscripted question at a public appearance. The second involved me dancing at some sort of club upstairs from the arena at which she spoke. I was wearing a metallic necklace, either copper or brass or gold, or some alloy of these. Hillary showed up and kept staring at it. This made me extremely angry and I finally told her off for being so rude.
I was escorting Hillary to the stage at a rally at some fairgrounds. When I greeted her, I was surprised to discover she was wearing a completely over-the-top red ball gown and spiky heels that poked holes in the soil as we walked. I was really worried she was going to make a fool of herself, but I tried to pretend that she looked absolutely fine.
A few of us voters/volunteers were at the mall, sitting on a bench. Hillary comes up to us all nice. I'm about to tell her that, sadly, I'll be voting for Obama, but then she brings us inside this room that I guess is campaign headquarters but looks like a small living room. She sits us down on the sofa and confesses that she's got cancer, but that it can't get out because it could ruin the election. We're all really sad and I start to change my mind about voting for Obama. But then I geek out and tell her it's all going to be okay because that happened to President Roslin on BSG and she ended up all right. Hillary looked at me all funny, like What the hell are you talking about and what is BSG? (That's Battlestar Gallactica.) I'm like, Never mind, then we all start strategising about how to keep this from leaking to the media.
One of the guys leaps up and finds a tiny dot on a nearby bookshelf, and we determine that it's a bug and that one of the Republican candidates had the room bugged and now they know. Hillary suddenly mobilizes us to find out who planted it and to get them to not release the news.
But then my dream degenerated into some giant rock monster trying to kill all the kids in Rainbow Land and the monster was keeping Rainbow Brite hostage and forcing her to shoot rainbows out of her belt. He would run the rainbows through this spaghetti-like shredder and turn them into a pool of muck. All the little color kids were slowly getting younger and younger until they melted into the muck, too. Then there was this little outcast girl whose color didn't fit into the rainbow (it was teal or mint) and she alone had the power to stop the rock monster. So she rides up to him on this wire floaty thing in the river of dead rainbows and stuns him with a lightning bolt or something, which makes its way through all the kids and brings them back to their regular size and they start to plan on how to save rainbow.
27 February 2008
26 February 2008
Last night's dream left me with an admiration and a desire for Hillary that I have never felt before. We were making love and I, for the first time in my life, had feelings of sympathy and admiration for her. There was little talking, but I recall feeling all of her life's power and accomplishment during the act, something I have never really acknowledged. To my frustration, my lovemaking skills were not enough for her. That part of myself which I had previously taken pride in and had never failed to successfully use (particularly in a dream) was failing. I remember whispering soft words of passion to her, changing my physical techniques, but nothing seemed to trigger the physical response I was seeking. I was so confused and disappointed by my failure to please her that I awoke feeling sexually inadequate for the first time in my life. But this inadequacy left me with a new admiration for her power, something I had never quite thought about before. I saw how all of the power in her life was acquired through a personal sacrifice of sexual desires.
25 February 2008
I was Hillary Clinton's personal assistant and I was miserable, partially because we were working non-stop on little sleep, but also because she was a tyrant. It was about three in the morning after a rally. She yelled at me in front of a group of people for a small mix-up I had nothing to do with. I commiserated with my coworkers. Though we were unhappy, we concluded that we were stuck: we couldn't quit because how could we get another job at this stage in the election cycle.
24 February 2008
It started in a crowd, an urgent, threatening crowd. I got Hillary Clinton into the car, in the driver's seat. I sat in the passenger seat and had a hard time clicking the seat belt closed. We drove in silence and I kept looking over at her, trying to figure out what to say. She was a good driver, though a bit of a tailgater (which makes me nervous). At some point, I was suddenly in the back seat, right behind her, and I had a big stack of papers on my lap that I was sorting into piles on the seat next to me. I was holding some paper clips between my teeth, which is perhaps why I spoke with a German-Russian accent.
I told her, Senator Clinton, ma'am, I would be happy to drive if you have something else you need to do, but she just smiled and kept driving.
On a highway we had to stop short just as we would have passed under a bridge, since a road crew was blocking almost the whole road, filling in a giant, muddy, watery hole right in front of us that had an orange road barrier sticking out of it, with more barriers around the hole. The workers were very focused on their jobs and didn't look up.
Hillary opened the door and got out, looking around, and so did I, thinking she wanted me to drive now. The workers began elbowing each other and muttering in South-of-the-Thames accents, Isn't that Hillary, love? Then we got back in the car and she drove - backing up and turning to drive across the wide median to the other side of the highway, and we headed back the way he had come.
She looked at me through the rear-view mirror and asked why I wanted to drive. I said, surprised that it wasn't obvious, Well, ma'am, because you are the next President of the United States, and I want to help you. I'm sure there is something you want to do besides driving the car. Even if it's thinking. Thinking is very important. I want to help you become the next President of the United States. She grew thoughtful.
We arrived at a dining hall at the University of Virginia (my undergrad). Bill Clinton was there. My heart leapt and I blushed when I saw him. Hillary and I got separated. I knew I was supposed to be meeting someone else there, yet I also knew that I was responsible for bringing the Clintons to the dining hall.
Strange security measures were in place there: trays bolted to tables, everything brightly lit, only one direction to walk in. I got a tray, silverware, an empty glass, and a monkey dish of pineapple.
The Clintons and I sat in a row at a table and started talking. Then my parents -- as they were 18 years ago -- came up to us. I introduced them, but the Clintons already knew who they were. My Dad did a happy little jig, kicking his feet up, then my Mom pulled him away. I felt guilty, because it was my parents I was supposed to meet, and I apologized to the Clintons because I had to go with my parents, but they were like, No no no, stay here.
22 February 2008
I went up to Hillary Clinton and said, Thank you for running, it means a lot to us. She rolled her eyes in this weird way so that I couldn't tell if she was rolling her eyes because she was moved by what I said and was trying not to cry, or if she was rolling her eyes in the Bitch, please, I know you like Barack sense.
So in the dream I turned to my mother and asked her opinion. I don't know, my mother said, but she has beautiful skin up close. And she did, too.
I was at a campground. There was a large building, but when I went inside, it was remarkably small. There were bleachers like you would see at a child’s outdoor baseball game. I sat among the small crowd of people there. Then I noticed that Barack Obama and Hillary were near -- close enough that I could talk to them. In the dream, there had been a couple of state primaries and Barack had taken the lead. I began telling Hillary that it would all be okay, it would work out. It felt very normal and matter-of-fact to be speaking with her. Next thing I knew, I was wandering around outside, carrying the biggest Obama for President sign ever.
21 February 2008
I was strategizing with James Carville and Hillary in the Clinton’s living room. Bill was frolicking – jumping around on the furniture, running to and from the window. He was mute in the dream; physically couldn’t talk. Carville and Hillary and I were discussing something, then Hillary took me into the kitchen to have a girl talk, with her favorite dog in arms. The discussion descended into a mundane, uncomfortable conversation about whether or not she should attend the Cannes Film Festival this year.
Then I was back in the living room with Carville and Bill. Bill disappeared behind a secret rotating panel in the fireplace, which spun around like a secret passageway, but when it turned around (allowing him and the fireplace to disappear behind the wall), the other side had a picture of him painted on it, except dressed up like Napoleon..
Carville started hitting on me in the darkened living room (darkened because the fireplace had been the only light source). When I told him I was married he said that everything was negotiable and we should discuss it over dinner at his place. Then I said, But you're married too! Then he said, That's just branding, sugar, now follow me. He started to lead me down a hallway, then my alarm went off.
19 February 2008
In my dream, Hillary kissed me a few times on the cheek. She had hot red lipstick on. I saw Bill's pecs. He had a hot bod. For a second I thought I was going to sleep with him, but then I ended up in a car with someone I didn't know and I learned about Obama's secret affair with his black slave servant.
I was walking with Hillary down by the railroad tracks in my hometown, Illinois. She had her arm around my shoulder and I had my arm around her waist and she felt soft and nice, like my mom. I wondered if people would think I was Chelsea. After walking in comfort and silence for a while, I quietly said, Hillary, I love you. She said, in a very harsh voice, Well, Obama's policies and his personality are just so STUPID. And the spell was broken.
Then I had to crawl on the ground while Hillary kept walking upright. I had to crawl under a big salt overhang and the ground was made of salt crystals. I saw a small pink penis lying on a slab of salt on the ground, but Hillary couldn't see it because she was so far above me and not looking down.
Hillary Clinton and my mother were standing together looking l like sisters. I said to my mother that she and Hillary had a lot in common. (My mother turned me onto Bob Dylan and Joan Biaz in the sixties. She was against the Vietnam War and always focused on the downtrodden.)
The next night, I had a dream that Bill and Hillary Clinton were dancing in a soft embrace, he in a Navy uniform and she wearing a vintage 40's or 50's dress. The dream seemed to be precognitive because I caught a news clip of Bill Clinton the next day telling South Carolinians that he was so lucky, because he had married his best friend.
Hillary Clinton and half her campaign staff came in to eat. They sat in my section, which was cool at first, but then they started requesting all sorts of food that we don't serve, like baked potatoes, bouillabaisse, and "English tea squares." I tried to explain that we didn't serve those. They got mad. My section filled up, I was beyond weeded, I tried to get the manager to help me, but he was walking too fast for me to catch him!
18 February 2008
I was standing with Hillary and a man who was her former husband (much better looking than Bill Clinton). She was berating him and recounting all the things that she did not like about him when she was married to him. He was looking very hurt, and I felt badly for him. I also felt protective. We turned away so that we would not hear her.
I had a dream the other night where I was in one room of a house, but important events were taking place both in that room and another room of the house. How did I keep track of events in the other room?
My dream had a CNN-style crawl keeping me updated.
I was at some kind of county fair and Hillary walked up to me and said Hi Dan! (I didn’t know how she knew my name.) I’m Hillary Clinton. Are you going to vote for me?
I told her that I hadn’t decided yet, but wanted to know more about what she stood for. She told me that she had to go to the restroom, but that if I went with her into the bathroom she would talk to me while she took care of business. I followed her into the restroom and she went into one of the stalls. She started talking about her platform but I wasn’t paying attention because I was trying to get the bathroom door locked. I didn’t want to get caught in a women’s restroom with Hillary Clinton.
She came walking out of the stall with a Dole pineapple whip (like they sell at Disneyland). She said, Look what I found in the stall. This is delicious!
I told her that she shouldn’t be eating that because who knows where it came from and who knows how long it had been in there, but she wouldn't listen. I said I had to go, but I would definitely be voting for her. I was lying so I could get away. She thanked me and asked if I knew where to get some ribs.
I had a scary dream about the aftermath of the election. I was watching a news broadcast from Mexico. They were complaining about the huge amount of illegal aliens that were flooding in from the United States. At first this shocked me so I dug a little deeper and found that Hillary Clinton had won the election with Obama as her VP. I also found out that Canada was having the same type of problem.
I was sitting in a church, listening while the pastor rolled off a diatribe against Hillary running for president and how we Christians need to stand against her so that she cannot attain the office. Hillary was sitting in the congregation. Someone noticed and got up and went to her to apologize and explain that it isn’t usually like this in this church, which brought the whole service to a halt. The pastor was unrepentant, but was embarrassed only because his speech blew up in his face. Everyone else simply felt guilty because they agreed with what he said, but were faced with the very person against whom their feelings were directed.
I was at a seedy mall with a friend. These men in black came up and said that Hillary Clinton wanted to talk to us. We followed them through a bunch of corridors to a dirty little folding-chair storage room where we proceeded to have a long talk with Hillary. She was trying to convince me to vote for her. At the end, we all stood up and I extended my hand to shake hers. She hugged me instead. I hated this. Then my friend and I walked back down the corridors. She was wearing the worst perfume ever. I woke up with that icky feeling I get when someone I am not fond of touches me.
Hillary Clinton and George W. Bush were having a secret love affair, and for some reason, I was sharing a one-bedroom apartment (and a comically over-sized bed) with them. At some point they wanted to get freaky, and I stomped out of the bedroom in a huff.
Next thing I know, I’m in the kitchen frying bacon and suddenly Bill Clinton comes bursting in, all Where are they!? I gesture toward the bedroom with my spatula. As he’s heading back there, I ask him to please not hurt anyone or break anything. He turns to me and starts laughing.
“Sweetie, I ain’t gonna hurt nobody,” he says. “I just wanna see what the hay-ull this looks like.”
Then he starts hitting on me.
I walked into a restaurant and Bill and Hillary were sitting at the bar. At first I didn't realize it, but Bill Clinton was hitting on me. Hillary regarded me coolly. Then Bill leaned close to my ear and said in that voice of his: "I like the way you dress."