I’m not sure if there’s any credence given to the supposition that a disagreeable late-night snack can contribute to a troubling dream sequence.  In general, I’m neither a regular nor reliable dream-rememberer, nor am I prone to bouts of indigestion, (reverie-inducing or otherwise).  But…I awoke this morning, with the vivid memory of a pile-on horror of a nightmare that seemed to have lasted for years.  I was exhausted, despite my normal 5 ½ hours of slumber, and awoke, still shaking from the intensity of it all.  I tried to calm my breathing and elevated heartbeat, grateful to be awake, slowly finding comfort in the inanity and creativity of my REM state which must surely be attributable to whatever subconscious Freudian work needed tending to.  I’m writing it all down, because I know the details will fade and this might just be that “one” screenplay that all of us are supposed to have inside.

It’s 2015 and that moronic, reality TV fucktard, Donald Trump, is gliding down an escalator in one of the thousands of NYC buildings with his name tastelessly emblazoned upon them.  His latest trophy wife, Malaria, or something like that, is decked out in a smarmy, hey-look-at-me outfit, made by under-age slave laborers…he sports an ill-fitting suit and a red tie that dangles to his knees.  The escalator has been purposely slowed down for dramatic effect and, as they reach the bottom, The Donald, (a title he’d bestowed upon himself), steps to a microphone to announce, to an adoring throng of paid extras, that he is declaring his intention to seek the Republican, (even though he has been a lifelong Democrat), nomination for President…you know, the United States one.  His summarized platform is that he hates Mexicans because they are mostly drug dealers and rapists and that only he, among the entire population of the US, (more than 300M), is smart enough to fix all of the terrible stuff resulting from the bad, bad deals made by everyone who came before him.  He’s going to build a glorious wall along the entire length of our southern border and, because he is such a great deal maker, Mexico is going to pay for it.  In the screenplay version of the dream I would insert a montage here of highlights from the Republican primary where he is seen to use the Mein Kampf model of badgering, belittling, lying and goose-stepping through a sea of stupid opponents on his way to the Republican nomination ending with one of those spinning newspaper effects that finally freezes on the headline, Trump Elected President!  Almost immediately, strong evidence arises of Russia and Putin meddling in the election and creating their version of the Manchurian Candidate with the easily malleable steaming-blob-of-polyunsaturated-blubber-in-chief, as well as a salacious piss-tape poised to go viral if he strays from his pre-programmed agenda of bringing democracy to its knees.  He begins his tenure by nominating the most despicable Cabinet of bumbling misfits ever assembled outside of a trashy, B-movie screenplay that wouldn’t deserve to even be in the same in-box as this gem.  Then, (sorry to have moved so quickly to the Cliff’s Notes version but screenplaying is harder than it looks), he starts fucking everything up, that’s not the catch-all, overexaggerated “everything”, that’s the literal everything kind of “everything”.  He lies, cheats, steals…lies about the lying, cheating and stealing and in slightly shy of three years, turns the entire planet into an oozing shithole.  Along the way, Republicans lose their soul and stay silent, Evangelicals, anxious to overturn Roe v. Wade, kiss his demonic ring, like minded despots form an international circle jerk and 38% of Americans, (whoever was supposed to be cleaning the gene pool…), have willingly drunk the Kool-Aid.  At every turn, his immoral, illegal and unapologetically bad behavior has encouraged his detractors to grasp at the repeated yet unrealized ‘this-time-he’s-gone-too-far’ lifeline, eventually opening a formal inquiry of impeachment in the House of Representatives.  His response is to commit three treasonous acts, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree. 

Then, I woke up.  Thank god, none of that actually happened.