Donald Was Glad for This

I had a humanizing nightmare this morning.  Ran through emails, ran through the papers as I do first thing, in the morning.  Up early because I couldn’t sleep and I may as well get work done rather than lie there flopping around, kvetching.  I spent a bit of time translating another article about the arrest of Ms. Meng, the Huawei CFO.  The terms are just within the borders of polite civility.  Earnest, strident insistence to correct, mistaken actions. 

By 5:30AM I stopped what I was doing threw the big pillow I have against the wall and flipped off the lights and tried to meditate.  And I knew, given how sleepy I was, I’d likely doze off. 

It was some kind of fashion show, that preceded from one tent to another.  I walked along and soon found myself talking to the President, as one does in one’s dreams.  He was holding court in his tent, as one might expect, but he and I had a rapport.  And soon, I was thanking him for the intro to a business opportunity and reminding him that if anything came of it, I’d be sure to afford him ten-percent finders fee.  Donald was glad for this.  And he encouraged me to go push hard to get it done and it was somehow quite natural to be talking business with President Trump. 

In the next tent I found myself with his infant child.  I don’t know how Barron had regressed to this tender age or if this was a new Trump child.  But I do recall thinking about this child and thinking of his life, the opportunities and the challenges to living with such a father.  And by now in the dream, I felt a basic, human affinity for Donald Trump.  He had seemed reasonable and he had encouraged me to get business done.  And my dream mind suddenly regretted that I had blogged disparaging things about the man.  What if now held these thoughts against me? 

Waking I was unnerved.  I’d surrendered most of meditation time to oblivion.  At least I hadn’t overslept.  But as I removed the cobwebs of the dream from my conscious mind I was left with the unpalatable sensation of having liked Donald and indeed felt a bit like a pal of his for a few moments there in the tent.  I suppose the subconscious can’t help but make any two-dimensional distant figure, immediate, and human and, as generally happens with real humans, one experiences empathy.  The President hadn’t done anything to really deserve this empathy but the experience of extending it was difficult to rescind.  It was a feeling and feelings are felt, rather than logically understood.

Monday 12/10/18