At the risk of sounding like a complete loony-toon in my very first diary, I'd like to tell you about a dream I had several years ago. As a matter of fact, I had it on the night of the 2000 presidential election. You know the night. And you know how we all felt when we went to bed that night. Confused. Nervous. Full of foreboding. Still hopeful, somewhat. On tenterhooks.
Now, I am a rational person.
I should also mention that, at this time, I was about 6 weeks pregnant with my daughter, and that I had miscarried twice previously; and somehow my worry about that intertwined with my worry about the election -- and that worry -- or something else-- produced this dream.
Well, in this dream there was a demon. As demons go, he was non-descript: no horns or tail, no horrible grin. He was a dark, shadowy, man-like figure, capable of gutting you, or paralyzing you, or assimilating you, and he was, at the beginning of the dream, directing these sinister intentions towards me. Oh, and his name, incidentally, was "Bush." (Let's be clear: he didn't have the chimp smirk pasted over his shadowy face. He wasn't Bush the guy. He was "Bush," the demon.)
As you might expect, given the background, "Bush" went after my unborn child, pressing his spikes or claws or whatever-they-were into my belly.
I did not fight off "Bush." My daughter did, by kicking, by the sheer force of her will. And, in the face of her obstinacy (which she still demonstrates), "Bush" went out-- he left the building. Now, believe it or not, none of that was the part that's so difficult for me to swallow.
Here's the part that makes me squirm: as "Bush" went out, "God" said (from some offstage location) that there was nothing further we could do; "Bush" was to be unleashed for a time upon the world, and "God" implied that this would be a time of great evil, an apocalypse, almost. The sky was stormy and red. The atmosphere was laden with doom.
I awoke feeling, for the only time in my life, as though I'd had a prophetic dream. Now, I don't think this dream was prophetic because Bush did in fact win the election. There was at least a 50% chance of that, once the Florida fiasco had begun. It was just the visceral feeling. I don't normally have demoniac dreams (though I had a few more over the next couple of months). God does not talk to me, at least not like that. I am not a religious freak-- not even really Christian. So I don't know what to make of this experience. All I know is, I will never forget it.
And I offer it up, with poll, as a companion piece to the diary on Bush's approval (OK, "disapproval") ratings.
I'd also be curious (though somewhat apprehensive?) to hear if anyone else has had similar experiences. I mean, that involve Bush...