I had Donald Trump visit in a dream one night—actually, it was very early in
the morning, I had been awake, but went back to sleep. The minute I recognized
him, I thought
“This isn’t good.” (That’s putting it mildly, but I
won’t get into the politics here.) Dreams are odd events, the brain is busy
working things out, and my brain has been feeling
“already too full”
as it is lately. I’m sure the radio turning on and delivering the morning news
babble added fuel to this murky muddle...
And it goes like this...
We (my Fred and I) were out walking along a country road, it was a beautiful
autumn day, and there he was out for a walk too, suit n’ tie, raincoat, alone.
We stopped and greeted him, the polite thing to do here... this is the country
road.
“Not much to see here,” he said. “It’s nice, but there’s not much going on.”
“We like it, it’s quiet.” One of us replied.
He pointed to a leaf strewn dirt lane that led into the wooded area
alongside the road. (It was pretty down there, whoever owned it kept it well
maintained, there were mossy stone walls marking the edges. I imagined it to be
a fine place to ride horses, although there were none to be seen, I knew they
were around...or had been at one time and their spirits lingered.) At the
entrance of the lane next to a mailbox there stood a wooden sign on a tall
post, although weathered by many years of exposure, it clearly stated
NO
TRESPASSING.
“I think I’ll walk through there,” he said.
“But Mr. Trump, there’s a sign that says ‘no trespassing’, you shouldn’t go
there.” One of us said, concerned. The sign was steadfast in its demand for
respect. (This is the sort of place that you must be invited to visit.)
He looked at us and smiled, he said. “What are they going to do?” he
gestured to himself (in a now familiar way, blustery confidence that nothing
will happen because he is who he is...Trump.)
I guess he’ll find out, I thought.
He walked on with a wave and a thumbs up, (so full of confidence that no one
will mind that he chose to stroll through their land without an invitation.) We
didn’t stop him because we agreed it wouldn’t do any good. I felt sad about
it—not for him, but for the one he’s trespassing against. (We were raised to
respect other people’s right to privacy—it seems not everyone cares about such
things anymore.)
(Back in the day when such things mattered, Dracula knew that he had to be
invited inside, but I haven’t kept up with what vampires do these days, so who
knows...)
Then I thought, out loud “Cellphone coverage sucks out here.”
Maybe after this he’ll see to that.
I woke up and wondered in my current frame of mind...
what the fuck is
that shit about?
Yes, that was it...with some parenthetical embellishments necessary to
untangle the frustrating murkiness and sensations that are part of dreams—this
is what my busy already too full brain came up with while asleep. I rarely
remember my dreams.
Why would I dream about this? Other than what this man stands for in my
mind, a bully who will take what he wants, he’s all for himself, and doesn’t
care who he stomps on along the way—the country road, the two of us, or the
private property that he felt entitled to take a stroll through because he is
who he is—and my concerns regarding personal space and privacy.
I know I trespassed from time to time in my childhood, little kids do that
shit, just cutting through someone’s backyard, through someone’s woods or a
pasture to get to where they’re going, being nosy, learning the ways of the
world by getting into trouble because of curiosity, learning how to ask for
permission rather than asking forgiveness. It’s part of growing up. I tried to
be mindful of the land belonging to someone that I should take care, and I
shouldn’t wreck it. Things were so simple then...now, not so much. I feel
invaded a lot.
This dream also brought me to
The World of Pooh, a book I keep on
my nightstand for a quiet read...a security blanket of sorts...
Winnie-the-Pooh, Piglet's house (image from
The Disney Wiki) From the story
In Which Pooh and
Piglet Go Hunting and Nearly Catch a Woozle
THE Piglet lived in a very grand house in the middle of a beech-tree,
and the beech-tree was in the middle of the forest, and the Piglet lived in the
middle of the house. Next to his house was a piece of broken board which had:
"TRESPASSERS W" on it. When Christopher Robin asked the Piglet what
it meant, he said it was his grandfather's name, and had been in the family for
a long time. Christopher Robin said you couldn't be called Trespassers W, and
Piglet said yes, you could, because his grandfather was, and it was short for
Trespassers Will, which was short for Trespassers William. And his grandfather
had had two names in case he lost one--Trespassers after an uncle, and William
after Trespassers.
"I've got two names," said Christopher Robin carelessly.
"Well, there you are, that proves it," said Piglet.
Well there you are. Maybe I’ll post my sign...
Trespassers Will.
And of course, while doing my research, I discovered a band called
Trespassers
William...and because I love finding new music even if it’s old, I bought
one of their records,
Different Stars...although they’re no longer
together it looks like the former members are still out there making music.
There’s so many layers in life’s journey...so much to learn...so much to
see...
That’s my story today, and I’m sticking to it.
This blog is also posted at my
Wordpress website...it'd be real sweet of you to stop by there and follow me...
