I dreamed that I was at the theater and it was unusually crowded and bustling. There had just been a sensory-friendly student matinee (which was no small feat for the Victorian lesbian thriller...). There were patrons, actors, and staff streaming the hallways.
I was trying to find our executive director, and spotted her in one of our odd, glass-enclosed offices (think fishbowl, but more cramped and less stylish). The room was crammed with people; some were sitting on the floor or leaning on the wall. I thought I could sidle in and ask her my question, but the door was locked. I tried the other door, and was able to sneak in.
It was only then that I noticed who was among the crowd: Donald Trump.* He was at the theater, apparently, to receive a confidential briefing. One of his staffers whispered to me that I had to stay silent, and that they'd already swept the room for bugs, and they'd been able to get a secure phone line.
The noise and bustle in the hall increased, and it was getting harder to hear the discussion, and nearly impossible to hear the voices of those on the phone. Then we all started to realize that there was some order in the bustle outside, that it wasn't random. The voices converged, and we could hear that everyone outside, with one voice, were singing "All we are saying is give peace a chance."
I laughed out loud, and Trump and his staff were furious, rising to leave.
As everyone dispersed, our executive director said, "Come see me later, please." I said, "Am I fired?" She said, "Well, we all know we didn't hire you for your poker face." I wasn't sorry for laughing, though. I wished I had joined the singing.
*Trump had grown his hair into a mullet, and had it pulled back in a greasy ponytail. He looked as skeevy as he is.
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