Donald Trump in Dreamland

I had a dream last night; a peculiar dream.  I dreamed that I was in a training meeting around a conference table with seven or eight people, the most notable, Donald Trump.

Why was Donald Trump there?  I know not, but he sure was hogging the meeting with his smirks and grins.

The meeting was one of those HR meetings going over something like insurance options or sexual harassment, and I'll admit that I wasn't paying any attention to the talk around the table at all; instead, I was thinking how great my life would be if I were to get in the good favors of Donald Trump by saying things like:  "Ha, that's is so funny Mr. President..."  "Gee, that is a nice power tie you have on..."  "Is that Aramis you are wearing, boy it smells good on you."

Now, here's where the dream gets really, really, really weird: I liked him!  What!  I really liked him.  It was obvious he was going to be nice to me and give me opportunities I would not otherwise have as long as I bought into his ego with gratitude and praises, which sure beat vacuuming floors. 

"President Trump," I said, "I'm really finding you to be a nice guy here today, why can't you let people see this side of you in public?"

"That would be a huge mistake," he answered.

"Of course it would," I said.

Nonetheless, as I did in most meetings when I wasn't a self-employed blogger: I got into trouble, for about fifteen-minutes into the meeting the speaker left the room and Donald Trump said, "You can all go home now, you've worked hard."

The group was stunned; we all knew it wasn't anywhere near time to go.

"I'm serious," said Donald Trump: "Go Home!"

Now, for one of those reasons that can only happen in dreams, I stood up and said:  "Thank you Mr. President."  And after a few seconds of realizing that that was the first time I ever called Trump, 'Mr President,' I left the room.  Two other guys in red hats left the room with me -- obvious Trump supporters.   The rest of the group remained in the room whispering.  And as I and the two Trump supporters headed to the door,  we saw the instructor and told her that Donald Trump had excused us.

"He can't," she said.  "He's just a student like you."

"No," I replied to the delight of the two Trump supporters beside me, "He's my President."

The three of us left the building, and here's where it had to be a dream because the the next thing I knew the two Trump supporters had pulled out guns -- after quickly showing me their permits to carry --  and began shooting.   Certain that they had seen the Hilary For President bumper stickers on my car, I ran back towards the building for cover only to see Donald Trump come running out the building -- more of a wobble, even in dreamland.   And so I ran and covered Trump's body with mine.  Bang! Bang! Bang!  I was shot in the back.

Now, let me add here that I was in the Navy and the President is our Commander in Chief no matter how screwed up things get, and so I did my duty.  Of course,  Donald Trump was rescued and boasted about how he had tried to save me, but couldn't -- yes, a liar even in dreamland. 

Fortunately, I woke up and realized that my girlfriends kitten, which I had been watching for a few days, had climbed on my head and woke me up.   I guess he had been sleeping in my lap until then. 

Yes, a pussy grabber, even in dreamland.

Who?  Me?

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