Dream of Donald at Doggy Daycare
4 November 2020
Article voiceover
I’m parked outside the doggy daycare place near the campus either picking up or dropping off my dog (who is somewhat different from the real-life one). The car is either a ‘70s or ‘80s era ramshackle thing or a futuristic self-driving thing. I’m sitting in the passenger seat which might actually be the driver’s seat (because I might be in a British TV show). Donald Trump appears and it seems that he wants to ride with us. (You’re in the backseat which is also, strangely, possibly the driver’s seat.) There seems to be nothing to do but let him squeeze his corpulent oversized greasy self into what would be the driver’s seat (but seems not to be). Donald acts friendly in a menacing way like a mob boss. He puts his fat hand on the console between the seats and I look down at it gauging its size and assessing whether he really has such small hands— an allegation that’s always struck me as an undignified cheap shot. I rest mine near his to compare. The car is moving now. I look over at him, somewhat repelled. He’s tossing his usual word salad with a side of bullshit. “So how do you think you caught the CV?” I say. And then realizing no one calls it that, I correct myself. “Coronavirus, I mean.” The End.
I've had two dreams about trump. The first was I was in bed with him and he smelled like pee (pee tape reference, I guess). The second he came to my house at Christmas and was going to give me a ride in his gold Lincoln (reference to a crooked boss I once had that let me drive his Lincoln to run his errands?) But Melania told him to leave because we weren't rich 😉