No, I did not dream about the Bushes last night.
by Bella Rum
My proclivity for dreaming about former presidents and their families continues. I didn’t dream about Meeting The Bushes or getting Bushwhacked Again. I guess my subconscious self decided it was time to branch out to Democrats.
I was in an unidentified, underdeveloped country. I was there to help infants and children. How I was to help remains a mystery, but my heart was in it. I was in an office when Secretary Clinton walked in. It was the healthier, rested, fitter Hillary, not the exhausted, overweight, teetering on the verge of a medical emergency Hillary.
Do you ever worry about your politicians – presidents in particular? I always notice their physical appearance and their demeanor. Are they tired, have they gained or lost weight, have they gone gray, do their faces look drawn, is their posture bent and beaten? President Reagan seemed fragile toward the end of his presidency. Now I look at how beleaguered President Obama looks, and even though he’s young, it’s worrisome. Clinton seemed to thrive while in office and was frail afterwards. President Bush perked up when his second term was almost over. Then, like Clinton, he had health issues later. It is a pressure cooker of a job. I don’t know how they do it. I’m content to busy myself playing with shiny objects. The presidency does something to a person.
Healthy Hillary Clinton walked into the office. She was holding papers in her hand and looked very busy but cheerful. Then Chelsea appeared and then former President Clinton. Chelsea approached me and said, “It’s time.” We left. We visited children and infants at an orphanage and some schools. The conditions were terrible. She told me how dedicated she was to this work. She confided that she sometimes cried after her visits to the children because their needs were so overwhelming. Then I realized that one of my teeth was loose. It was a molar.
I felt deeply for the children and wanted to help. Two minutes later, I was all about my tooth. I think this may mean that I need to get over myself and think of others more.
I’d like to dream of George Clooney and Richard Gere getting in a fist fight over me, but I tend to dream about things that make me look poorly on myself. That cannot be good. It points to personal growth, and I’ve had enough of that for a while. Not forever, but for a while. I want an old-fashioned fist fight. Have I ever mentioned that I love Robert DuVall? I know. Not your typical hottie, but what can I say.