The Dream Where I Chat Up George Bush

I guess it's the warm weather and my screwy summer sleep schedule, but it seems like every morning I wake up remembering some wild dream. The other day I had the craziest of them all.

The first thing I remember is that there were thousands of people piled on a couple of huge yellow plastic sheets, floating in the ocean. They were refugees, I think from Katrina or something, and I don't know why the plastic sheets supported them, but they did. Now the bigger one started sliding over the smaller one like two icebergs or two continental plates. I knew the people covered over would drown, so having somehow moved from an observing position to being among the refugees I got someone I knew to hop into the water with me to help pull the larger plastic sheet towards shore and off of the smaller one. We swam hard and pulled and soon we had freed the other raft. Don't ask me where I got the strength because I haven't done anything remotely grueling all summer.

Our work done, we started swimming for shore. What I had taken to be New Orleans levees now appeared akin to the breakwaters of Dana Point harbor. We had a quarter mile to go. By the time we swam into the harbor the person with me was this girl I was interested in. Not one with any correspondence in real life, before you ask. When we were only a hundred yards from the docks, John Lazur and an unidentified buddy of his swam out to meet us and John offered to swim me to shore. I may not be the fastest swimmer, but I can certainly hold my own, so naturally I felt a little patronized. I said we didn't need the help, but John replied that it would be silly to refuse when it was no trouble for him. Before I could respond, he grabbed me tightly and swam fast as a rocket to the main dock.

While we were getting out of the water, I thanked John for a bottle of wine he had given me for my birthday. It was a really good bottle of wine, I said, like probably a twenty dollar one. He said it was just something he'd had laying around. I insisted, but he repeated that it was just something he had lying around and refused to admit it was an expensive bottle. He explained that he had been thinking about giving me one of his one-third-full bottles of good gin (apparently he owned an array of brands), but had rather give away the bottle of wine.

On our way home I was still trying to catch the interest of that girl. We were in a bus with a bunch of people. The girl spoke up and proposed a group party with pizza and cake and offered to host. I sat there trying to figure out if it was a good sign, fully aware that I was completely over-analyzing the situation.

I found myself visiting Washington DC in the late afternoon. There was some sort of convention that evening that I was attending. I presume it was Democratic, because the proximity of the DNC and of all the time I've been spending with politically-obsessed Democrats. Looking for a way to kill time I noticed the White House was nearby and walked over to check it out (it looked suspiciously like a super-sized version of my great-grandmother's old house). I noticed none other than George Bush chilling in the back yard. A little star-stricken, I struck up a conversation. He turned out to be friendly and easy to talk to. I mentally confirmed that poll about Bush being a good guy to have a beer with. While we were talking the White House collapsed. George Bush didn't seem concerned and we continued chatting. I started asking him about his Presidency. Being mindful of my historic hatred of the man, I was careful not to say anything that might offend him. I asked him about how his administration worked internally. Perhaps he perceived it a loaded question or maybe it was too journalistic, but at that George paused and before he had a chance to say anything he began to fade away. He faded away until he was gone completely and with it, my dream.