Dinner With Donald

I had a dream last night that Donald Trump invited me to dinner at his house.  I'm not sure if it was the White House that ended up at, but it was a nice house.  I was invited as a "journalist" for some reason, I presumed because of the obnoxious posts I'd made about him on social media.  He was married to a woman who was not Melania, she had a much more conservative look - glasses, short hair, and was closer to his age.  They had a window on their house that saw right onto the field where the Washington Nationals play.  I asked this woman if they ever watched the games through the window, and she told me that they had intended to go to the games more often, but due to Donald being elected President, they were unable to.


I decided to talk to Donald like I didn't hate him with every fiber of my being, to see what he was really like.  I asked him if he intended to go to baseball games after his time as President was over, and he said "From what I understand, you never really stop being President."  He then began to show me a slide show while making commentary about the images.  Much of it was benign, until he got to a slide that showed an image of someone's calf with a SS tattoo.  I informed him that this was anti-Semitic, and he shrugged it off.  A young African-American woman with dreadlocks arrived as an additional dinner guest, and I mouthed the words "I'm so glad to see you" when she walked up to where we were sitting, and she flashed a reassuring smile at me.


We were all sitting at a dinner table together, and there were NFL highlights playing on a TV next to us.  Donald asked me if I thought that if the Raiders won the Super Bowl, the Black Hole would become disillusioned.  I told him that I had not been watching football for the past couple years, but that I thought that they might.  Another dinner guest arrived, and it was a Hispanic woman I work with in real life.  Donald and his wife then retreated to their kitchen to talk privately, and I told the women that we had to find a way to get out of there.  




The sound of hammering is the one thing I can't sleep through, and I was woken by the sound of someone pounding away at who-knows-what.  I don't know who the hell is constantly using a hammer in our apartment complex, or what they could be doing, but it happens all the time.