For those of you who believe that "reality based" is the only way to be, you may wish to skip this diary. It is not grounded in reality, but instead in dreams.
Last night I dreamt. Vividly. It seems to have gone on all night, although anyone knowing anything about dreams knows that what seems like hours may be only minutes in conscious time.
I dreamt that Helen Thomas, that veteran newswoman who appears to be one the last standing between us and the complete capitulation of the mainstream press to the New World Order, had died.
Now, as of this morning, after a panicked search on the net, there is no actual evidence that Helen Thomas has died. Thank God for that.
However, that doesn't stop me from pondering about why I dreamt this with such intensity in the first place. Yes, I come from one of those "superstitious families." I believe in dreams. As portends, as clear messages about things which our conscience thoughts leave muddied. Whatever you want to call it.
And last night, I dreamt of Helen Thomas.
Now, I am not a particularly passionate follower of Helen's work, in the sense that I do not check the White House website each and every day to see if she's torn Scott McClellan a new you-know-what. I don't go out of my way to scope her columns. Nor is she my contemporary. Indeed, she is not. But what was most interesting about what I dreamt is the level of detail. Not about her death - there were no details about that which I recall other than that she had died. And that it was all over the TV, all over the newspaper, all over DKoS for that matter (yes, I recall logging on in my dream to much gnashing and wailing.)
But I dreamt of Helen Thomas - or, to be fair, my mind's projection/imagination of who Helen Thomas is - and her life. As a young woman (she was dancing with a partner, at one point, and notably not wearing a red dress) and at various imagined stages until we reached where she is today, an aged, yet still fiery, advocate nee journalist. Personal things. Images of a warm, yet firmly spoken when she needed to be, woman. Kind of like me, yet whiter, older, wealthier, and I think shorter although I'm pretty short myself and of course, I have never met Helen Thomas.
It bears repeating that none of the things I dreamt are reality. Because, of course I have never met her. Given that, I am still left wondering why, last night, my dreams were filled with Helen Thomas.
And I am forced to think, yet again in the now 23 years since I first got my psych degree, that God was trying to tell me something. About what my fears were, about what I thought things were today.
I realize that, to me, Helen Thomas is the last finger in the leaking dike, in many ways. The last of the "old guard" standing between a press that is an arm of the state, presenting propaganda as news, and a free press. A press which informs me, advises me, educates me, and tells me the truth. What I did not realize, until it took up so much of my slumber's thoughts, is how much that seemingly small thing means to me.
It is much like they day shortly after November's election that I found myself, having read yet another article about Bush's plan to overreach in some extreme way to take away something that defines us as caring, compassionate, Americans, saying out loud for the first time in my life: "How can this be happening? This is America, for God's sake."
For the record, I'm not and never have been an "American's American." I've never been a "my country take it or leave it" type of person. I find as much to complain about in what our country does as I find to praise it. More, to be honest. But in the past 4 1/2 years, I find myself grieving, more and more, for my country. For the loss of some basic understanding as Americans about right and wrong that may have never existed, but for in my hopes and dreams. I look at our country today, Americans hating on Americans with a virulence and rage that I've never seen before, and my heart is so afraid, each and every day, that the country itself may soon fall apart.
To me, it is obvious that the wingnuts believe, in their twisted way, firmly in their vision of America. But sometimes, it is not as clear that those who are not wingnuts, and I am not one of those, also love America. At least, love the theory of what America is supposed to be, and what we want it to be and what it has no excuse not to be. And, as those like myself are fighting our political fights today, we speak much of the anger at our America, but little about our love because it is hurting us, our fellow Americans, and so many others in the world so very much.
And that is what, looking at it now as I am writing this free-association diary, I realize is the connection between what I feel about America, and Helen Thomas.
Helen Thomas, in her holding the administration's feet to the fire, in her speechifying which now we come to expect if and when Dubbya even lets her speak, is an American's American. It is clear that in this role she has played since Kennedy - the curmudgeon who never, ever lets the government rest on its laurels -- hers is a critical voice which appears to have been dedicated for the past 40 years to pushing America, through its elected leader, to be and remain its best even when it thinks it already is. Especially when it thinks it already is.
I saw a quote from her this morning, which went like this: ""President Ford said that if God had created the world in six days, on the seventh day he could not have rested--he would have had to have explained it to Helen Thomas."
And that to me, is the beauty of what she stands for. An America that should never rest, until it has perfected what it is, based on that vision of America that I think, deep down, all Americans love. I know that I love it. And it is that, more than anything, which makes me committed to fight to save it, especially from the fascists-in-training commonly known as the Bush Administration.
Now, this diary is not a call to arms. Just the ramblings of a middle-aged Black woman. But nonetheless, as we go about our political discourse and other life business today, take a moment to do two things: (a) Thank whatever Higher Power you believe in (even if it's just yourself) for Helen Thomas; and (b) remind yourself that you fight the good fight against the evils that harken from this administration not just because you like a good fight, but because you love America. And that if we rest before America is truly the best it can be, we all may be someday forced to explain it to Helen Thomas.
Sorry if this was both weird and long winded. I get like that, sometimes.