Of Vivid Dreams and Ridiculousness

I am at a party. The monstrous house is full of people, drinking and laughing, all seemingly enjoying the festive atmosphere. I make my way into the living room and I spot my mom in the corner. She is surrounded by a group a women with a very “ladies who lunch” look to them; gold buttoned pantsuits, perfectly coiffed hair, pastels. The room is getting more and more packed. I look around for the bar, feeling intensely thirsty all of the sudden.

As my eyes dart around I begin to see that everyone in the room looks a bit like Hillary Clinton. No, they look exactly like Hillary Clinton. It’s as if Hillary’s face has been supplanted on every person in the room. Were they all like this when I walked in?

I glance back at my mom. Now, she too looks like Hillary. What happened to her face?  She sees me and starts waving me over. The room is getting thick with Hillarys and I’m having trouble getting over to my mom. I’m becoming fearful, not of the Hillarys—for I know they would never hurt me and only want to cradle me in a warm, Democratic embrace—but that my mom’s face may not go back to the way it was. Above the crowd I hear her yell to me, “Honey, honey, come show us your face.” A rush of hot panic hits me. I raise my hand to my face. It feels fine. I glance in a nearby window. To my horror, I see Hillary staring back at me. I touch my face again. It’s not a mask, it’s flesh. What’s happening? I look back at my mom. She’s still waving to me with a huge smile on her alien Hillary visage. I have to get out of here.

Outside, the cool air feels good on my face. My face. I think about going back in for my mom, but as I turn back to the house, the Hillarys are crowded in the window, watching me. There are hundreds of them now. I start running. I’m making my way through a vast clearing and into the woods. I’m running so fast that the trees are flying by me as if I’m in a speeding car. But there’s no one chasing me. The trees are so tall that the night sky is almost entirely blocked out. I want to touch my face, but I keep running.

I come to the top of a hill and I stop. Daylight is breaking. Down below in the valley I see a platform next to a single train track in the grass. I run towards it. It’s farther away than it appears. A train is coming. I have to get on it. I run faster. The train pulls in and stops just as I approach the platform. I look up and see my Dad. Thank god. I throw my arms around him. He is happy to see me, but somehow not surprised that we are meeting on a random train platform in the middle of the woods that I have been feverously racing to get to and I may or may not look like Hillary Clinton. I try to catch my breath.

“We’ve got to go,” he says to me.

Looking down, I see I’m not wearing any shoes. “But, I forgot my flips,” I say.

Pulling away from our hug, he puts his hand on my shoulder and whispers, “Perhaps you should have been more prepared, honey.”