Why Afternoon Naps Are Amazing....
All right: The following takes place in my subconscious from 4.45-6.30 pm.
My parents and I decide to take a road trip to Wisconsin. For some silly reason, at my urging, they decide it will fine for them to reunite for awhile and that nothing bad will come of it. My dad drives. About half-way there, my mom starts screaming at him to pull over and she then accuses him of stealing from her and being a bad person. She threatens him and announces if he refuses to change, she will send him home. She drives and he remains silent. Finally, unable to take it any longer, I ask if we can pull over somewhere and spend the night. We end up staying in a very house-like motel and I crash on the couch.
I wake up at an ungodly early hour the next morning to a precocious six-year old named Caroline - who ends up being terribly smart for her young age - sitting on me.
“Finally! I want to go swimming,” she announces.
My parents are still sleeping, so I decide to take Caroline down to the beach. As I’m walking down there I notice two very bizarre things: there seem to be myriad celebrities and the beach is segregated. I take Caroline into the water and we’re swimming when she excitedly points out her daddy on a wooden, curtained raft in the middle of the small lake. Her father is John Fitzgerald Kennedy, referred to as ‘Jack’ from now on. I absolutely have to meet him. I place Caroline back on the shore and grab a blue raft and start swimming out there. About halfway along I run into an older black woman who seems to be struggling. I offer her my raft; she seems surprised, but takes it. Apparently, this causes a tremendous sensation and I am instantly bombarded by pro-integration demonstrators who ask me to speak at a reception later that evening. I accept and they carry on; I finally swim out to Jack.
Jack is sitting on the raft in a chair, sleeping lightly. A secret service officer - clad in a grey pinstripe suit which doesn’t seem to be wet - is standing in the water next to him. The officer makes no move to stop me when I approach the president. I immediately recognise that he is having an Addison’s attack. [I actually, in real life, know nothing about the disease, but here in the dream he was having a bad day.] I whisper in his ear.
“Mr. President, you don’t look so well.”
He attempts a smile, “I’m just tired. I saw what you did out there today. It was impressive.”
I return the smile, “I’m not sure how long these Addison attacks usually last, Mr. President, but if you’re feeling better later I would love to stop by.”
Jack chuckles, “You should leave. I’ll see you at the reception.”
I swim back to shore and the black woman who I lent my raft to immediately approaches me.
“You saved my life!”
I am noticeably confused, “I just gave you my raft.”
“You saved my life!”
I am embarrassed, but apparently continue to cause a sensation in the segregated resort. I return to my mother and explain we need to stick around because we clearly woke up back in the sixties and I have to end segregation before we can leave. She seems to understand and gives me a fabulous white dress. While I am changing I receive a telegram. Yes, a telegram.
Jessica-
Please come to the presidential suite. Immediately.
JK
I fix myself and hurry up to the suite, expecting a rendezvous with Jack. When I arrive in the spacious (cathedral ceilings, a giant bed, floor-to-ceiling windows, lots of red curtains) room, however, it is not the president who is waiting for me. Instead, it is Jackie O. Except before the ‘O,’ as she is still married to Jack. She asks me to sit down and explains Jack is lying down in the other room.
“You’re the young woman who spoke with Jack at the lake today, correct?”
“Yes, I am.”
“And also the young woman who saved a woman’s life and was asked to read a speech
tonight on desegregation?”
“That’s me.”
“I need to show you something.”
She removes a telegram from her pocket and offers it to me.
Jess-
I would like to continue our discussion started at the lake. Meet me after your speech in room 207. Come alone.
Jack
Mrs. Kennedy gives me a very sombre look, “I intercepted this earlier today. My husband gave it to one of his agents, who was supposed to track you down. I can rest assured you are not going to meet my husband tonight?”
Of course I am.
I lie, “I would never do that.”
“Good. I appreciate all of the work you are doing to end segregation, and I had this feeling a girl who works so hard to help people would not be the type of girl to dally with another woman’s husband.”
“Of course not.”
“I mean - well it isn’t like Jack doesn’t do this all the time (of course you must realise you’re not his first), but you’re really just a kid. I’m glad we have an understanding. Good luck tonight.”
She smiles and I almost feel badly for still wanting to sleep with her husband. I am escorted from the room by a man who might wind up being Bobby Kennedy.
I decide to attend dinner before the reception. When I arrive outside the restaurant I notice it, like the rest of the resort, is segregated. The white entrance is ornate, while the black one is around the side and tiny. I announce loudly that today is ‘Freedom Day,’ grab my black friend’s hand and walk in the side entrance with her. Other whites follow me, excited to make a stand. Another group of people are horribly offended and makes no point to hide it. The protest goes well, however, and the dinner is largely desegregated. After dinner I head into the reception and give my speech, which is equally well-received, yet unremarkable. My parents are proud. Jack gives a speech of his own and he is looking much better. Following the orations, there is a dance. It is also desegregated. Jack makes a beeline for me and asks me to dance. I noticed Jackie watching, but she does not seem phased.
Jack whispers in my ear. “I hear you talked to my wife.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“I hope that doesn’t change our plans for later.”
“Of course it doesn’t.”
“Good. Meet me at 12.30 in room 207. Knock twice, pause, and knock a third time.”
[That, naturally, is Dan Barnabo’s secret knock. And, as a side note, I don’t think Jack was that lame in real life.]
I nod politely and Jack excuses himself. I spend a little more time at the party before sneaking out and heading upstairs. I execute the secret knock; Jack allows me entrance. The room is small, nothing like the room in which Jackie lectured me earlier. It is wood panelled and features a bed, a small table and a minibar. He fixes us drinks.
“I wasn’t sure you would come. I heard what Jackie did.”
“I had a feeling she is used to this sort of thing.”
“So you don’t mind being one in the long line of Jack’s women?”
“How many chances does a girl get to fuck the president?”
He smiles, “I like you.”
“The feeling’s mutual. Wait until you see what I have under this dress.”
Apparently, it’s nothing.
Of course we have sex here. Really ridiculous good dream sex.
After we’re finished he politely asks me to leave.
“You mean, that’s it?” I inquire.
“Unless you want to come back tomorrow. I will have someone escort you back to your
room.”
I bid Jack goodnight and am sent back to my room with a pair of men. About halfway down the hall I start flipping shit and yelling at the men I am with, who are naturally confused and annoyed.
“Don’t let him go to Dallas!” I yell, knowing, of course, that they will.
At this point, I wake up. And, because we’re supposed to keep a dream journal for playwriting, and because this dream is so amazing in its ridiculousness, I’ve written it down for all of you to enjoy. Je t’aime.
Ta,
Jess
My parents and I decide to take a road trip to Wisconsin. For some silly reason, at my urging, they decide it will fine for them to reunite for awhile and that nothing bad will come of it. My dad drives. About half-way there, my mom starts screaming at him to pull over and she then accuses him of stealing from her and being a bad person. She threatens him and announces if he refuses to change, she will send him home. She drives and he remains silent. Finally, unable to take it any longer, I ask if we can pull over somewhere and spend the night. We end up staying in a very house-like motel and I crash on the couch.
I wake up at an ungodly early hour the next morning to a precocious six-year old named Caroline - who ends up being terribly smart for her young age - sitting on me.
“Finally! I want to go swimming,” she announces.
My parents are still sleeping, so I decide to take Caroline down to the beach. As I’m walking down there I notice two very bizarre things: there seem to be myriad celebrities and the beach is segregated. I take Caroline into the water and we’re swimming when she excitedly points out her daddy on a wooden, curtained raft in the middle of the small lake. Her father is John Fitzgerald Kennedy, referred to as ‘Jack’ from now on. I absolutely have to meet him. I place Caroline back on the shore and grab a blue raft and start swimming out there. About halfway along I run into an older black woman who seems to be struggling. I offer her my raft; she seems surprised, but takes it. Apparently, this causes a tremendous sensation and I am instantly bombarded by pro-integration demonstrators who ask me to speak at a reception later that evening. I accept and they carry on; I finally swim out to Jack.
Jack is sitting on the raft in a chair, sleeping lightly. A secret service officer - clad in a grey pinstripe suit which doesn’t seem to be wet - is standing in the water next to him. The officer makes no move to stop me when I approach the president. I immediately recognise that he is having an Addison’s attack. [I actually, in real life, know nothing about the disease, but here in the dream he was having a bad day.] I whisper in his ear.
“Mr. President, you don’t look so well.”
He attempts a smile, “I’m just tired. I saw what you did out there today. It was impressive.”
I return the smile, “I’m not sure how long these Addison attacks usually last, Mr. President, but if you’re feeling better later I would love to stop by.”
Jack chuckles, “You should leave. I’ll see you at the reception.”
I swim back to shore and the black woman who I lent my raft to immediately approaches me.
“You saved my life!”
I am noticeably confused, “I just gave you my raft.”
“You saved my life!”
I am embarrassed, but apparently continue to cause a sensation in the segregated resort. I return to my mother and explain we need to stick around because we clearly woke up back in the sixties and I have to end segregation before we can leave. She seems to understand and gives me a fabulous white dress. While I am changing I receive a telegram. Yes, a telegram.
Jessica-
Please come to the presidential suite. Immediately.
JK
I fix myself and hurry up to the suite, expecting a rendezvous with Jack. When I arrive in the spacious (cathedral ceilings, a giant bed, floor-to-ceiling windows, lots of red curtains) room, however, it is not the president who is waiting for me. Instead, it is Jackie O. Except before the ‘O,’ as she is still married to Jack. She asks me to sit down and explains Jack is lying down in the other room.
“You’re the young woman who spoke with Jack at the lake today, correct?”
“Yes, I am.”
“And also the young woman who saved a woman’s life and was asked to read a speech
tonight on desegregation?”
“That’s me.”
“I need to show you something.”
She removes a telegram from her pocket and offers it to me.
Jess-
I would like to continue our discussion started at the lake. Meet me after your speech in room 207. Come alone.
Jack
Mrs. Kennedy gives me a very sombre look, “I intercepted this earlier today. My husband gave it to one of his agents, who was supposed to track you down. I can rest assured you are not going to meet my husband tonight?”
Of course I am.
I lie, “I would never do that.”
“Good. I appreciate all of the work you are doing to end segregation, and I had this feeling a girl who works so hard to help people would not be the type of girl to dally with another woman’s husband.”
“Of course not.”
“I mean - well it isn’t like Jack doesn’t do this all the time (of course you must realise you’re not his first), but you’re really just a kid. I’m glad we have an understanding. Good luck tonight.”
She smiles and I almost feel badly for still wanting to sleep with her husband. I am escorted from the room by a man who might wind up being Bobby Kennedy.
I decide to attend dinner before the reception. When I arrive outside the restaurant I notice it, like the rest of the resort, is segregated. The white entrance is ornate, while the black one is around the side and tiny. I announce loudly that today is ‘Freedom Day,’ grab my black friend’s hand and walk in the side entrance with her. Other whites follow me, excited to make a stand. Another group of people are horribly offended and makes no point to hide it. The protest goes well, however, and the dinner is largely desegregated. After dinner I head into the reception and give my speech, which is equally well-received, yet unremarkable. My parents are proud. Jack gives a speech of his own and he is looking much better. Following the orations, there is a dance. It is also desegregated. Jack makes a beeline for me and asks me to dance. I noticed Jackie watching, but she does not seem phased.
Jack whispers in my ear. “I hear you talked to my wife.”
“Yeah, I did.”
“I hope that doesn’t change our plans for later.”
“Of course it doesn’t.”
“Good. Meet me at 12.30 in room 207. Knock twice, pause, and knock a third time.”
[That, naturally, is Dan Barnabo’s secret knock. And, as a side note, I don’t think Jack was that lame in real life.]
I nod politely and Jack excuses himself. I spend a little more time at the party before sneaking out and heading upstairs. I execute the secret knock; Jack allows me entrance. The room is small, nothing like the room in which Jackie lectured me earlier. It is wood panelled and features a bed, a small table and a minibar. He fixes us drinks.
“I wasn’t sure you would come. I heard what Jackie did.”
“I had a feeling she is used to this sort of thing.”
“So you don’t mind being one in the long line of Jack’s women?”
“How many chances does a girl get to fuck the president?”
He smiles, “I like you.”
“The feeling’s mutual. Wait until you see what I have under this dress.”
Apparently, it’s nothing.
Of course we have sex here. Really ridiculous good dream sex.
After we’re finished he politely asks me to leave.
“You mean, that’s it?” I inquire.
“Unless you want to come back tomorrow. I will have someone escort you back to your
room.”
I bid Jack goodnight and am sent back to my room with a pair of men. About halfway down the hall I start flipping shit and yelling at the men I am with, who are naturally confused and annoyed.
“Don’t let him go to Dallas!” I yell, knowing, of course, that they will.
At this point, I wake up. And, because we’re supposed to keep a dream journal for playwriting, and because this dream is so amazing in its ridiculousness, I’ve written it down for all of you to enjoy. Je t’aime.
Ta,
Jess