I had a terrible nightmare last night: I dremt that Ivanka Trump was my cousin and that I tried to impress her by finding online a list of her favorite things to buy. The worst of capitalism deep in my subconscious mind. God help me.
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Back in the glorious days of the Bush regime, I dreamt I was making out with Laura on a shabby sofa, and was just about to unbuckle her bra, when Georgeβs dark shadow appeared in the doorway.
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Another time I dreamt I was interviewing Slobodan Milosevic who sat across a vast desk from me. He was nice, but then his mood darkened, and he came around to face me and said: βSo you like Muslims.β
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Another time I dream I was carrying Radovan Karadzic in my backpack. He was the size of a chihuaha, but still heavy.
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Do you think I need to seek help?
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