There is no telling how many wars it will take to secure freedom in the homeland.
(George W. Bush, speech on August 7, 2002)
I wake up early this morning from a dream, a very clear dream.
I am walking on a path outside, maybe at a hotel, where people are eating dinner. I look at some bulletin boards on the path, and there are some memos. They are all dated 1983.
I look at peoples' hairstyles and their clothing, and I realize that I must have traveled back in time. Oh my god, it's 1983!
I feel a sense of relief. It's a simpler time. Of course, in 1983 I was just a kid, and so I am in touch with my own sense of innocence at that time.
Suddenly, I see David Hasselhoff, the star of Baywatch. He looks quite young, and even skinny. I look at him and realize that he probably doesn't even know how famous he is going to be in a few years. It's quite a contrast to 2008, when he is pretty much over-the-hill.
I walk down the path, into a big dining room that must be part of the hotel. There is some kind of political convention happening there, and I take a seat to listen. To my surprise, a young George Bush the second is speaking. He seems more lucid, more together than he does 20 years later (although, in the 2000s, I do my best to avoid listening to his canned speeches, which I can tell, he doesn't do a very good job of reciting and comprehending, not to mention the ridiculous fascist content).
However, despite being more "intelligible", he uses more profanity than he does normally, I guess trying to appear more "down-home" to all of us. It is not impressive, just embarrassing. He uses the word "bitch".
I see some people protesting outside of the hotel and I know they are Democrats. Maybe this is some kind of Republican gathering. I want to talk to the protesters outside, to tell them to do their hardest to make sure that Bush doesn't get to power, that our country doesn't get off track in the way that it has in the last seven years. But I am afraid they won't believe me or take me seriously.
Bush of 1983 has left, and, suddenly, Bush, from 2008, enters the room. He looks pretty much the same, except his hair is more grey. He talks in the same way he talks on TV these days, trying to be "down-home", but if you pay attention, you can see that he is different from his younger self. Perhaps he's lost a few million brain cells or something. He is trying to convince people that he is the one to support and vote for, perhaps going back in time to ensure that he can take office in 2000.
Where I am sitting, everyone has a laptop. They are more bulky, old laptops, although I don't think laptops were even invented then. I also have a laptop, a sleek Sony Vaio from the 2000s. I open it and see if I can log onto the internet, but of course, I can't. People aren't really curious about my little laptop--perhaps they think it is just another sleek model. Nevertheless, I notice myself trying to hide my screen from others. What if they see the Windows XP interface? They're still using DOS.
I ask the young guy next to me if he has ever heard of the Beastie Boys, but he says that he hasn't. Of course, they're not going to get big for another few years.
I know that I need to leave soon. But since I know I'll never be back to 1983 again (or so I believe), I decide to tell the guy next to me the truth, that I am from 2008.
"Right," he says. He starts making fun of me and trying to make me look like a kook. I want to convince him that I really am from the future. I want him to know that the world is going to change in a big way. I want to tell him that America is going to change in a big way, and that it's not all a pretty picture.
He's still mocking me as he gets up to go. I need to go, too.
"I will just say one word to you," I say. "Remember it."
He stops his mocking for a second and waits for my word.
"The internet." I say.
And hopefully, as the years pass, he will remember me, and perhaps, in another reality, he and others can help change things, so we don't end up in the nightmare that is the United States today.
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