HDR Photography
Gotham Rises by Bri Duncan

Last night I dreamed a future. It was an odd experience for me because I more often don’t recall my nocturnal visions, nor do they, as in this case, become episodic.

This dream world was a shocking, dark and dead place where Trump was “President” (at this point he was always elected, he had always been president).

In the first episode of my vision, I was being bused to NYC (the new capitol) to work on the “Hotel of the People”. A fabulous-extravagant-beautiful hotel that people can experience true pleasure. It was always promised, but always too under construction.

As the bus crawled through Time Square, the rich promises turned out to be only a frame of white coated iron beams standing in a thin New York address space, like some gaunt skeleton slowly rusting in the eternal nights rain.

I was plotting an escape with some of them on the work bus. I had my trusty travel backpack I use today, though more worn much as myself. For some reason, all I owned was shoved in the luggage rack above my cramped seat. I had to pack to flee, my choices could mean life and death. Taking too much would show my hand, too little and I starve or freeze.

I shoved in rolled t-shirts one after another realizing I was making a mistake, but powerless to stop myself from filling my bag with now too many unneeded tops. As I was hurried off the bus, unable to complete my task. I was still putting in the last item, my defiance, an aerosol can, as I exited onto the grimy streets of New York City and ran squarely into Trump.

He saw the can!

“You think you can come to my city, and spray graffiti on The People’s beautiful Hotel?” Bellowed the President, in obvious fury!

I fumbled, stunned that the President would come in person to inspect the work camp participants, “No…uh…sir, it’s not…”

“I saw the spray can, you think you can lie to me?”

“No…I…,” I continue to stammer.  “It’s…it’s hairspray,” I pull a can of Deva Hairspray from my bag and show it to him.

“Everyone needs a bit of luxury in this world,” I say feigning shyness.

He gently takes the can at the bottom holding it up for inspection with his fingertips and smiles.

“That they do,” he says patting me on the shoulder as he leads me away in a half hug, still smiling.

I woke up then. Now this all seems comical to me, but in the state of half-consciousness, the world between life and dream I have to admit it was truly frightening.