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I dream of Sam Donaldson

I dream of Sam Donaldson

It's Monday and I can't explain how much I despise Monday mornings. This Monday brings a headache of gargantuan proportions and sleet, ice and snow to go along with it. Excuse me, but wasn't spring here on Saturday? Wasn't it 70 degrees? I've been saying all along that Yankees opening day will be snowed out this year. Mark my words.

So with an on-again/off-again cable connection and a pounding head, the only thing I can offer you today is the dream which probably caused this headache.

There was a dance at the school, except the dance was being held in a trailer adjacent to the school. I knew what was going to happen. I knew there was going to be a fire in the trailer. In my dream, I knew I had dreamed this before, so I tried to warn everyone. Of course, no one would listen. The principal and the other office staff would come over to the trailer every once in a while (they were all over 7 feet tall) and sniff in the windows and realize they smelled something funny, but would shrug their shoulders and walk away. I tried. I really did. But it was like I was invisible.

The Smashing Pumpkins were playing in the school cafeteria. I went in and they were playing "Mayonaise" and I was holding someone's baby. Everyone had babies. And they were all going to head over to the dance. But every time I tried to open my mouth to say something about the fire, nothing would come out. Instead, everyone left their babies with me and headed over to the trailer. I was left in the brightly-lit cafeteria with babies and Billy Corgan and pink streamers hanging from the ceiling.

I went outside and found my friend Bonnie and she was waiting on her boyfriend, who was the leader of a gang called "The Sticks." They wore red sashes on white shirts and red berets and they looked like hall monitors from hell. They came and got Bonnie and took her to the dance, even though she knew I was telling the truth about the fire. The look of resignation in her eyes was sad. She knew she was going into the trailer to meet her eventual death, but she couldn't say no to her gang-leader, hall monitor boyfriend. She kept glancing at me as she walked away, and I held her baby and wished her luck.

The fire started, as expected, and I fled the with my sister in one of those airport cabs that look like a bus. I kept having this feeling like I forgot to do something, and I suppose it came from the fact that I left all the babies in the cafeteria and that my own kids were at the dance.

We arrived at a sprawling hotel, where we were told to go around the back into the Disney resort area. We walked into the lobby and there were stalls set up that featured virtual video games. Most of them involved Sonic the Hedgehog inflicting some sort of pain on you. My boss walked by with a huge drink that was in a tikki mug, and the tikki mug was laughing at me. I tried to hide, because I was supposed to be at work, but he sort of walked right through me as if I wasn't there.

Suddenly the room went quiet and a woman announced that we should all stand and welcome our governor George Pataki. He walked into the room and he had aged about 20 years and was bald and fat. Everyone applauded, except for me because I don't applaud Republicans and the hostess threw me out of the dining area.

I needed to get a cab back to the school to see what happened with the fire. I was worried about everyone, but even more worried that I was somehow going to be blamed for it because I knew about it in advance. No one would believe that I had only dreamed of it and was using my dream as a warning.

The cab never came and I found myself in a party room sipping a drink with an umbrella in it and wearing a grass skirt. Sam Donaldson was there, and he took me down a flight of stairs, where there was a river and a boat waiting for me. I guided the boat through a series of lilly pads and ended back at the now burning trailer.

All the babies were lined up and waiting for me, arms outstretched. The gang members were all laying on the ground, now charred corpses identifiable only by their red sashes.

There was a gang of survivors coming after me, Frankenstein style, with torches in their hands. They were chanting and singing and leading the pack were Billy Corgan, Sam Donaldson and Todd. Todd was mad because I got the last box of Spiderman cereal.

Suddenly they are pelting me with rocks and stones and I can hear the rocks hitting the ground but I can't feel them. I just hear the sound, over and over, as I cower on the charred dirt.

I wake up to the sound of sleet hitting the windows and vow to never again eat a Slim Jim before bed.

Comments

I always knew Sam Donaldson was trailer trash.

Did you hear that story in the news last week about a bunch of school girls being forced to return to a burning building to retrieve their burkas? They had exited the building because it was on fire, but police in charge of enforcing muslim law forced them to return because it was indecent for them to have left the building and appear in public without their burkas. They burned to death. Perhaps they = bonnie.

I'm sure that had something to do with it. Seems this dream is a combination of everything that I read or heard all week long.

You had some weird-ass dream, Michele.

i wish i was at that dance.
then i would have been able to see the pumpkins again...
yeah...
would have been the best dance ever..
except it went up in flames and stuff..

I knew the Smashing Pumpkins thing would bring you out of the woodworks.

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