A writer’s nightmare on Trump Street

It’s late at night and I’m alone on a Gotham street. A light rain is falling. I need to cross the street but my fear is that Donald Trump will come roaring around the corner from out of nowhere in his golden Trumpmobile and run me down. I hesitate, I don’t cross the street. But I need to cross, to get to the polls to vote before they close …

I have written several Op/Ed’s in the last few months about the upcoming presidential election, just to get things off my chest. I have become as informed as I can about the candidates, their policies, beliefs and past records of performance. I have studied the election process. Most curious to me, however, are the voters. “The American People.” How can we be so divided and yet so undecided? It’s a three way split right now and the undecideds will turn the vote.

The media will be the catalyst to determine the winner.

{mosads}It is all becoming so aggravating. All of it. The exhaustive, painful media coverage, the bias. The pundits. The knock-down-drag-out fight between Trump and Hillary seems so beneath what a presidential campaign and debate should be. It’s been entertaining, but enough is enough. I don’t think I can take one more dirty jab from either of them. My goodness … sex tapes, Miss Universe, tax fraud, business foundation fraud, fraud fraud, he said, she said, one scandal after another. We’re at the bottom of the cultural civility barrel, and I’m at the end of my rope.

These two are really getting on my nerves. Both of them.

Why are all these nasty, crazy things just coming out now a month before the election?! Has Hillary been asleep at the wheel all along and not paying attention? Has Trump’s ego and unpreparedness gotten the best of him?  Are the voters just waking up? Is the media just starting to do it’s job?  

The last couple of mornings I have been waking up disturbed and depressed after nightmares about the election, and in particular, Donald Trump.

Bear with me on this dream, it may be significant. I actually dreamed this. If you are a psychoanalyst it may be interesting to you. Let me know what you think. You can comment below. If you don’t care to read my dream thoughts, I understand, just skip to the next op/ed.   

Donald Trump hired me and my high school friends from the old neighborhood in Queens to help him with the election. He put us up in an expensive suite in the Trump Tower and told us the place was ours and whatever we wanted to just charge it to the house. After the party was over and everyone had left, I was cleaning up when Trump walked in. He seemed in a good mood, told me I was doing a good job, then walked out. Then, suddenly, a giant monster appeared on the balcony of the suite behind the sliding glass doors. The monster had a dog with him, a Terror Dog like the one in ‘Ghostbusters’; mean, ugly, with horns and glowing red eyes. They just stood there for a moment and watched me, then disappeared.

I thought I may have imagined it. Just then, Trump walked back into the room. This time he seemed angry. I tried to tell him about the monster and the Terror Dog, but he just yelled at me and gave me some money and told me to go get him some orange juice. He gave me the keys to the suite to let myself back in. I went across the street to the deli or convenience store and got an orange juice from the cooler and went back to the suite.

When I tried to open the door with the key, it broke off in the lock. Just at that point, the Terror Dog came around the corner and started growling at me. I backed away, it came closer. I ran, it ran after me. It chased me through a park and through time into my old college dormitory when I was a freshman. I ran into the building and out on the upper floor balconies looking down at the Terror Dog until he just stopped chasing me, and apparently had given up.

I felt sorry for him and went down to see if he was okay. I petted him, we became friends and he wasn’t so terrible after all. Just misunderstood.

Crazy, huh?

Here’s another one from a few days ago.

Trump has won the election. It’s crazy time. America has become like Biff’s world in ‘Back to the Future II’. Trump has gone completely nuts and has put America on the brink of a nuclear war. He and only he has the nuclear codes and the call comes to his hotel suite at 3:00 AM one Thursday morning. (He has moved out of the White House to more suitable quarters). After a brief and heated discussion Trump hangs up the phone. He is heard mumbling something to himself. Then, he opens his laptop and begins to laugh uncontrollably as he tweets, a manic laughter. He activates the source codes. He tells Melania to hold her ears …

Jeez.

Hopefully, after this election is over and well behind us we will all return to our normal life, and me to my normal sleep patterns.

Sweet dreams.

John Kushma is a communication consultant and lives in Logan, Utah. https://www.linkedin.com/in/john-george-kushma-379a5762  

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