Trump Pizza

 I had some unusually vivid dreams one night in January, and I wrote them down. Here are my notes, cleaned up slightly, in case I need them for an insanity plea sometime.

Last night had two feature dreams and two shorts.

First feature was about Chicago and Northwestern commuter trains. One ride that I remember had the train going past a station with a collapsed roof, with lots of commuters dressed like the 1960s waiting under the roof overhang.

Then for no apparent reason, I was walking with Robert Soave of Reason magazine out of the field by the old outdoor theater towards my house, 485 Estes. But none of the houses look right, even though it said 485 where our house should be. The house in the dream had a brick garage crumbling out back, and it was yellow. Our back garage was wooden.

The next long dream had me in downtown Des Moines trying to get to my office for a 9 o’clock meeting. Nothing was where it should be, and I never could find my building. There was only an abandoned building covered over with Plywood painted black. I found an Ernst & Young office. They offered me a job, which I declined. They offered me directions. I ended up on an elevator, but my Covid mask was too small and kept falling off. I woke up.

First short dream had me on a boat in Des Moines harbor, which of course doesn’t exist. We were launching a man up into the air who would come down with a parachute. It somehow involves me putting an SD card into some handheld device. Two big boats (like Great Lakes ore boats) raced into a slip at a speed that would never happen in real life because they would crash into the shore. I made shore with someone else and woke up.

I then dreamed a commercial for Trump Pizza. It was delivered in black limousines by delivery men dressed up in red livery with gold braid like the Queen's coachmen. They had silly red hats shaped like hot jiffy pop popcorn.

I have no idea if Trump Pizza is or ever was a thing, for the record.