Last night, I had a disturbing dream.
I do not usually recall my dreams. When I wake up in the morning, almost always I wake up with a clean state of mind, focused on the things I am planning to do in the coming day. It is very rare that I wake up even with fragmentary memories of whatever I was dreaming while asleep.
This was one of those days. I was unable to recall the details, but I remembered that in my dream, I worked at some retail establishment. I ended up working there as a favor to someone, being paid under minimum wage. I wasn’t there for the money.
Long story short, somehow the establishment became Trump’s property. Yes, that Trump. And Trump visited the place. In my dream, I’ve met Trump previously. Still, being the polite chap that I am, I greeted him with a “good morning, Mr. President”. He looked at me and told me, right there in front of his entourage, that no, we’ve known each other long enough, just because he got re-elected, I should not stop addressing him by his first name.
I was beaming with pride. I was speechless. So much so that only after he left the business did I realize that I forgot to ask the one question that I’ve been meaning to ask: Now that I work for him, as opposed to doing a favor to a friend, can I at least get paid at the official minimum wage?
Is it really this easy to manipulate us? Through our pride, our self-esteem, our vanity? Was my dream a cautionary tale, reminding me that no, however smart I think I am, I am not immune to these things?