Friday, May 08, 2020

I Had the Strangest Dream 

POTUS45 riding his parade robot.

I awoke worried I’d lost a bike, an expensive one but maybe I could get in touch with who had it and they could courier it to me. They could box it up and send it back. If that was too much trouble they could just wrap it in plastic and send it. I would gladly cover all the shipping costs. It would cost $250-$300 tops. Then I realized there was no need because what I thought had happened never did. It was an outlandish dream.

The Strangest Dream

Some friends and I were sitting around together when we heard that the president of the United States was coming to town and despite his unpopularity was planning a parade that would go from Woodbine Avenue, along the Lakeshore then back up University Avenue to Queens Park. The logic of this was completely lost on any of us but for some reason there was an online furor that was leading to a planned protest on Woodbine so the parade convoy would never reach its destination. A group of about six of us planned to ride out to meet the protest. It should also be pointed out that the president hated the idea of travelling in Obama’s presidential limo so his choice of vehicle was a large human driven robot, something between a Transformer and the large riot control robot from Westworld. However, due to bridge height restrictions the robot could not walk the entire route and had to be towed by a large mining truck (which for unknown reasons was orange rather than the typical yellow).

The mining vehicle towing the presidential robot was being driven not by a trained driver but by one of the president’s entourage who was a college buddy of Stephen Miller (the president's speech writer and policy advisor). This nepotistic job placement meant the mining vehicle was driving erratically south on Woodbine when we all arrived by bike. We had just joined the protest when this orange monstrosity went off the road almost injuring several protestors.

Suddenly the scene was chaos as Secret Service agents hustled the original driver and entourage into waiting SUVs and then for some reason offered rides to anyone in the crowd who was interested. Somehow, I was grabbed along with my bike and thrown into the cab of this huge vehicle and we were soon back on the road jostling about with political hacks, journalists and my bike, which had its front wheel off, locked to the frame and thrown near the door.

The protests had actually worked and the entire presidential parade ended with the convoy heading out on the highway to the airport. When we arrived at Pearson, anyone not in the presidential group were told to get out. As they loaded the immense robot and other vehicles onto a military aircraft I realized I was stranded at the airport. I decided to take the UP Express home and by the time we reached the Bloor station I remembered my bike had been left in the lead tow vehicle and was probably on its way to Washington. I started immediately to try making phone calls to the airport’s lost and found or to the American Embassy. That’s when I started thinking of ways to courier my bike home only to realize it was probably not lost as the whole event never happened.

How many times did I have to check to see if my bike was still here and not lost?

When I got out of bed I immediately went downstairs to check if my bike was still hanging from the wall. My relief was almost comical. Later in the day I found myself having to check for my bike again as if finding it at home was just part of another dream.

Originally posted on Instagram May 2, 2020.



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