I would like to report a midwinter night’s dream:
Last night, in the middle of the night, I dreamed about Dickens’ “Christmas Carol.” I dreamed that Donald Trump desired to enter into the spirit of Christmas and became stuck in a White House chimney. He was not playing Santa Claus; rather he had climbed into a Santa’s sack intending to offer himself as a gift to the nation. Nothing new in that.
In any case, Melania called in a chimney sweep, and Trump was extracted and revived. But, while in the sack, Trump had dreamed and was visited by the ghosts of Christmas Past. And when he emerged, his entire manner was changed. His first words were, “God bless Tiny Tim, God bless America, God bless us everyone”; and he was overcome by a spirit of charity.
He called Joe Biden and invited Joe and Jill to the White House for Tea. He called the newspapers and conceded the election. He called for the demolition of the wall between the U.S. and Mexico. He contributed $1 billion to charity. He issued pardons to Genghis Khan, William the Conqueror, and Benedict Arnold.
On Christmas Day, he was seen in the guise of Santa Claus, giving gifts to poor immigrant children. And in years to come, it was recalled that no one celebrated Christmas better than Donald Trump.
Of course, in my dream, Donald Trump’s image was transformed; he appeared in the figure of Lionel Barrymore.
Merry Christmas!
Victor Nuovo
Middlebury