(Image: “The Scream,” undated drawing by Edward Munch, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.)
I dreamed I had pink hair.
I dreamed I had pink hair and punk makeup but still was wearing my nerdy Benjamin Franklin spectacles without which I can’t see more than six inches from my face. I dreamed I was wearing them to the mall– a dank little one-story mall without a food court, a Disney store or a book shop. I was walking through the mall with a miniature robot who held my hand shyly as we passed the store fronts. The mall was crowded with ghosts, demons, specters and mythical beasts. I counted four different manifestations of Freddy Krueger and two Tyrannosaurs. Superman and Iron Man were also there; Superman kept pressing his face to store front windows and licking them.
Then, the robot and I came across an oddly pale, eyeless Donald Trump enthroned like an idol at the far end of the mall. Donald Trump was reciting xenophobic slogans as people came and offered their children to him; every worshipper was given a piece of candy. I never would have gone near him except that I saw Almond Joy in his candy bucket, and that’s my favorite.
Wait, no. That wasn’t a dream. It really happened, and I have photographic proof.
The place was packed with Trick-or-Treaters. There was a cute little girl in a gigantic inflatable T-rex costume, there were at least four Freddy Kruegers; there was a toddler dressed as Superman tasting the windows. And at the very end of the mall, in front of the county’s Republican Party Campaign Headquarters, a Republican gentleman in an ill-fitting suit, baseball cap, rubber mask and boat shoes was passing out treats while telling children “Vote for Trump! Donald Trump needs your help to build that wall! Help me build that wall! Vote for Trump!”
Grown-ups were bringing their children to sit on his lap for photos. Children were crying and saying “I wanna go home,” but the grown-ups brought them anyway.
And the meanie gave me a Reese’s cup instead of an Almond Joy.
I would reiterate what I said last week, that this election has driven me insane, but it seems my insanity is bleeding out of my own brain and infecting entire malls at this point. The whole world has become a collaborative performance art project produced and directed by Edward Munch and Hieronymus Bosch.
Just twelve more days, people. We can do it.
The trouble is, when those twelve days are up, there’s a very serious chance that one of the candidates is actually going to win this election.
Whoever they are, I hope they have Almond Joy.