My True Colors

September 10, 2006

I'm sitting in the back row of a high school English class. I'm playing with my Ipod and not paying any attention at all to the day's lesson when suddenly my teacher, Miss Cyndi Lauper, is hovering over my desk attempting to confiscate my Ipod. I refuse to give it to her, so she drags me out of the class, down the hall and into the principal's office.

In the office, Cyndi starts to lecture me sternly. I try to explain that I had been listening to one of her songs, hoping that would somehow excuse my behavior. The expression on her face visibly softens.

"Come back to class," she tells me. "You can have this back at three o'clock."

A Genuine Lainie Kazan

April 26, 2008

I'm seated in the waiting area of a doctor's office. Lainie Kazan is in the examining room with the doctor. I had wanted to say hello and get her autograph while I had the chance, but I was too shy.

Rhoda, a woman I worked with in a department store in Philadelphia twenty years ago, and who bears a passing resemblance to Lainie, emerges from the examining room. She is the doctor's nurse, and she has secured Lainie's autograph for me on an insurance form.

I take the paper from Rhoda's hand and examine the signature. I suspect that she has signed it herself. It strikes me as not loopy or flowing or elegant enough to be a genuine Lainie Kazan.

I wait to speak with the receptionist about scheduling another appointment while she argues with an unpleasant woman about changing her appointment time. The receptionist is trying to change this patient's time so that I can have her appointment.

Observing them bicker, it occurs to me that these two women are listening but somehow are just not hearing each other.

Whose Turn Is It Anyway?

April 20, 2008

I'm watching Saturday Night Live on an old black and white television. Bernadette Peters is performing "Rose's Turn," the climactic number from the musical Gypsy. She is accompanied by two back up singers, which is unusual for this big solo number.

The backup singers are meant to represent Rose's two daughters from the play, Louise and June, but rather than truly contributing background vocals, they each sing lines from the song that refer to their own characters. June, for instances, sings the line, "I did it for you, June."

While this strikes me as a strange interpretation of the song, the oddest thing about it is that the backup singers are not actually girls but instead two pasty-faced, pudgy, prepubescent boys with bowl like hair cuts.

An Egg In Every Pot!

April 22, 2008

I’m standing in the dining room of a large well furnished house. In the adjacent kitchen, Hillary Clinton is cooking us a breakfast of two fried eggs. We had considered poaching them, but determined that frying would be quicker and easier.

Hillary seems extremely busy and extremely focused, but not overwhelmed. I offer to stay here at the house with her until after the election.

“That would be fantastic, I could really use the help,” she tells me.

“But I’d have to bring my dog,” I say.

“Absolutely, the more the merrier!” she responds as my beagle appears at my feet.

The room has now morphed into a grand reception hall. Men in suits mill about as a bejeweled blue egg hangs high above us like an enormous and extremely expensive piñata.

A young girl strikes the egg with the handle end of a broom, sending it crashing to the ground. It cracks open revealing white paper bags filled with candy.

Two white men, whom I would describe as red-neck politicians, laugh that there are “no candies for the black children.” Infuriated by their remarks, I tear through the sacks of candy until I triumphantly pull out a small package of Sugar Babies and wave it in their faces .
_________________________________
So I realize there is potentially racist imagery in this dream, but I think it's really just about my anxiety surrounding the Pennsylvania primary being held today and my fear that Hillary wont get a substantial portion of the black vote.

Bless Me Obama, For I Have Sinned

April 14, 2008

I'm sitting in the front pew of a Catholic church with two friends. Barack Obama stands in front of our pew, ready to address the congregation. He is visibly annoyed that he has to wait for the choir to finish singing Gladys Knight & The Pip's Neither One Of Us Wants To Be The First To Say Goodbye before he can speak.

Now wearing green and white vestments, Barack starts shaking hands with parishioners to pass he time. I quickly remove my fingerless woolen hobo gloves and attempt to hide my Hillary Clinton campaign button by turning my jacket lapel inside.

Barack is now standing directly inf front of me and eyes me suspiciously. "I saw the button, " he says firmly.

"So what," I respond. "So I've got a button. I'm here, I'm listening, I'm open."

Now back in a sensible business suit, Barack heads out a glass door to have a smoke.

"If it's any consolation," I yell after him, "you're my second choice."

He turns back to sneer at me before disappearing.