Dream – December 14, 2012
Bright sunny day. I’m playing golf with my father. He’s ready to tee off when all of a sudden he starts to complain about how much of a piece-of-shit of a son I am. I fire back with some daddy issues when a soccer ball hits my legs. I turn around and notice that there are dozens of kids playing soccer on the fairway and see one of my Phys-Ed teachers from High School asking for the ball.
I pick up the ball but accidentally let the air escape. I try to throw it back to the teacher but it is very heavy because it has no air. While the teacher talks to my dad, I try to convince some kids to give me one of the balls they have inside a net, but they refuse to do it. My dad and the teacher shake their heads in disappointment and begin to ignore me.
Because I don’t want them to be disappointed, I keep looking for another ball but all of a sudden there’s a FLOOD and I run for my life towards a hill, where I hide in Jose Miguel’s house (an old friend from childhood). There’s nobody inside but I find tons of nice looking magazines over a long wooden table. I walk along the table—impressed by the magazines—and when I reach the end I notice that I’m in a SUBMARINE. It makes sense to me because the whole world is now underwater, but sailors run up and down the halls because we are also under attack! I look out through a porthole and see a torpedo approaching the submarine, but someone turns on a device that sends it to the bottom of the sea, where it explodes in a fireball.
When the shockwave hits the submarine we lose some walls and flooring and through the gaps I see the fish swimming below us. I worry a bit, but then I realize that this is not a REAL submarine, but a TOY submarine.
Somehow I see that the submarine is floating in a fountain in front of a hotel in San Diego. But under closer inspection I realize that—in reality—the toy submarine is a mechanical serpent. It’s similar to the Monster of Loch Ness and moves like one of those dancing dragons you see in Chinatown during the Chinese New Year celebration. It looks bad because it’s a cheap toy made of tin and it shakes every time someone drops a coin inside the fountain.
I’m not really sure how I can see this because suddenly I’m back in the submarine, where the halls now resemble those of the old Yankee Stadium. Game is over, apparently, because lots of people are walking out. I move to a corner to avoid the crowd and then I come face to face with MITT ROMNEY and his wife. Romney and I don’t talk, but we shake our heads to each other for things we talked about in the past. We both look worried about those things, but mainly about him not being COOL to be President.
I have a cigarette in my hand but I have no matches. Romney wants to help me but he’s afraid about the press seeing him asking for matches. Suddenly, he clicks his teeth, says “FUCK IT”, and goes to one of those red boxes with a fire extinguisher inside. He breaks the glass with his elbow and reaches for a secret compartment in the back where—I learn—firemen keep an emergency book of matches.
I congratulate Mitt for his knowledge, his courage to be a normal person, and for sharing such a treasured secret. He smiles and says, “Give me one of those. I’M GOING TO SMOKE TOO”.