Friday, September 10, 2004

The Bush Nightmare Project

I have been chatting this week on Zoetrope, Francis Ford Coppola's altruistic gift to writers of all ilks, with my friend the talented fiction writer Lydia Theys, about political nightmares. It turns out that Lydia and I both have nightmares about Bush.

I reproduce them for you here. (Bear in mind that these were scribbled down as part of a casual exchange, not with the intention of presenting them as "narratives" to a readership.)

Lydia's Nightmare
I had a most vivid nightmare last night. We were at home in CT, just going about our business and a sudden wind came up. It got louder and louder and ended with a deep, booming crash followd by a sliding sound. We ran to our windows and saw we were now on the ocean. Right on the ocean. It turns out that Bush had arranged for the New York metroplitan area to be dropped into the sea and the resulting ocean shore was a lovely beach to be used as a training camp of some kind. I was horrified to see people already there. All they could comment on was the beauty of the ocean and they were happily taking lessons in right-wing ideology. This sin't the first nightmare I've had like this lately. It is really getting to me.
Shaula's Nightmare
Lydia, I had a dream a while back that Bush and an entourage of Secret Service went by me in a shopping mall, and I booed at him.

And then, a few minutes later, we heard the coordinated stomp, stomp, stomp as a riot squad came marching in from the other end of the mall--to take everyone out.

Everyone scattered. I lost my shoes and realized that if I was barefoot I might not be able to survive, and I conned a pair off someone.

The stormtroopers were herding people into the department store at the end of the mall. The doors were locked and they were massacring everyone.

I got to the edge of a crowd and into a side store before we reached the department store, and then out the emergency exit in the store room, and into the parking lot, which backed onto a construction site. People were running everywhere. Search teams of police were hunting them down.

I was grabbing all the lost children, trying to keep them safe. We found a hole, like a bunker, under part of the construction site. There were a few other adults, but mostly lots and lots of children. It was getting dark and the kids were hungry and disoriented. The handful of adults realized that we had crossed a line, that we couldn't go home, that it wasn't the same anymore, but the children didn't understand yet.

I had gathered all the food that people had with them and was doling out very small portions for dinner. A teenage girl lipped me off about the food. I stood up and explained that we were on rations, that we were living under war conditions now, that they had lost the luxury of being children and had to start thinking in terms of survival and taking care of each other. The girl gave me more sass and I took away her dinner and gave it to another child. It occurred to me that we would soon be in more extreme circumstances where, if her insubordinance threatened the safety of the many, I would have to shoot her.

One of the adults thanked me for the work, for the hard day, and I said "if herding children and rationing food is the biggest challenge I face right now, that's a very good day."

And I woke up.
I got to thinking: surely we are not the only ones having bad dreams about Bush right now.

So I wanted to ask: who else has nightmares about George.

Come on, fess up. I'm really curious. :)

Zoetrope requires registration; registered members can read Lydia's bio here; non-members can also find her writing online at Gator Springs Gazette, Yankee Pot Roast, Quintessence, and Moondance. Her writing is excellent and I recommend it highly. Many thanks to the likewise talented Maryanne Stahl for introducing us.