The Weirdest Dream Yet
This is another Mommyland dream, but one where Mom makes a late appearance and is only tangential to the bulk of the dream.
The incredible premise of the dream is that Hillary Clinton is my stepmother.
You heard that right. Hillary is the center of this whole dream which seems to be piecing together elements of "Mommy Dearest" along with Charles Dickens and a little Jane Austen thrown in for good measure.
So, here I am in the middle of South Jamaica Queens; I think the dream begins outside the house I grew up in during the crucial years of middle-school, high school, college and beyond and I discover that the lock to the front door has been changed.
Hillary soon appears in order to let me know that she has inherited the house after my dad's death and that she is selling it. At no point do I question the logic of any of this. This is not the first dream I have ever had of celebrities and movie stars appearing out of nowhere and inserting themselves into that neighborhood block of working class African-Americans.
Hillary was menacing enough that all I could think about was where was I supposed to live? For literally the first time in my life I felt homeless.
Rather miraculousy, I take another look and the key chain in my pocket and realize that there is another key that I have not tried or, perhaps got mixed up with another key. In any event, I was able to let myself into the house and at least consider removing everything that belonged to me before Hillary could throw it away.
But, I was too late. When I got to my bedroom upstairs I discovered that all my clothes had been removed from my closet (and was occupied only by women's clothing.)
Back outside, I spotted someone I identified as my sister, but who did not in any way actually look like my sister. It was as if in this world, people could undergo drastic facial changes and stil be considered completely normal. I discussed the recent changes Hillary had ade to our home and Sis was not exactly supportive. This strange version of my sister with a nose and jaw line that seemed outlandishly exaggerated and clay-like as it still shifted in appearance before my eyes, was almost as scary as Hillary.
Finally, with great relief, I did see Mom - my real Mom. She was inside the house, completely unaware that anything unusual had taken place. End of dream.
The incredible premise of the dream is that Hillary Clinton is my stepmother.
You heard that right. Hillary is the center of this whole dream which seems to be piecing together elements of "Mommy Dearest" along with Charles Dickens and a little Jane Austen thrown in for good measure.
So, here I am in the middle of South Jamaica Queens; I think the dream begins outside the house I grew up in during the crucial years of middle-school, high school, college and beyond and I discover that the lock to the front door has been changed.
Hillary soon appears in order to let me know that she has inherited the house after my dad's death and that she is selling it. At no point do I question the logic of any of this. This is not the first dream I have ever had of celebrities and movie stars appearing out of nowhere and inserting themselves into that neighborhood block of working class African-Americans.
Hillary was menacing enough that all I could think about was where was I supposed to live? For literally the first time in my life I felt homeless.
Rather miraculousy, I take another look and the key chain in my pocket and realize that there is another key that I have not tried or, perhaps got mixed up with another key. In any event, I was able to let myself into the house and at least consider removing everything that belonged to me before Hillary could throw it away.
But, I was too late. When I got to my bedroom upstairs I discovered that all my clothes had been removed from my closet (and was occupied only by women's clothing.)
Back outside, I spotted someone I identified as my sister, but who did not in any way actually look like my sister. It was as if in this world, people could undergo drastic facial changes and stil be considered completely normal. I discussed the recent changes Hillary had ade to our home and Sis was not exactly supportive. This strange version of my sister with a nose and jaw line that seemed outlandishly exaggerated and clay-like as it still shifted in appearance before my eyes, was almost as scary as Hillary.
Finally, with great relief, I did see Mom - my real Mom. She was inside the house, completely unaware that anything unusual had taken place. End of dream.