I hugged Hillary Clinton in a hotel this morning

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In the dream, I was spending a weekend with George Clooney and some of his buddies somewhere in a snowy Midwest ski area, where no one was skiing they just wanted to be able to ski if the mood struck. George invited me to stay with him in his hotel room after meeting me on the side of the road, where I had just slid my motorcycle into a steep snow bank, on purpose, because I knew the road was too icy to stop without getting hurt. It was dumb to be on the motorcycle but it was the only way to quickly get away from my lover, who I saw flirting with another woman and winking at her in that “my girlfriend won’t know what I’m really up to” way. So I was real glad to see George with his sweet face and understanding invitation to sleep with him, as I saw fit.

George and the gang all went swimming in a warm lovely little lake, where I had to walk in my wet underwear and Tshirt past George and hoped my skin wasn’t too winter pale for his taste. We returned to the ski slopes just as the ice storm picked up again, turning the wooded trail into a dangerous slippery mountain climbing passage. I was just about to swing open a metal gate that led to our hotel when I was struck by lightning. The intensity of the light was unnatural, blinding and complete, and the voice of lightning found the deepest place in my heart and suddenly stopped talking altogether, the silence louder and sadder than anything I’ve ever heard.

When I woke up I was laying wrapped in a blanket watching George on the end of the hotel bed rearranging his shaving kit. He stood by me and winked, kissed my cheek, and left for work. The door opened again immediately and it was a woman. She was short, dressed in business casual, and had sexy brown lipstick on. She sat on the floor next to the bed and draped her arm over me. I brought my arm out and pulled her face closer. Since I didn’t have my glasses on, I didn’t know it was Hillary Clinton until she was near enough to kiss. Her hair smelled like daffodils and leather. She said, “Thanks,” and then I sat up so we could hug better. I wanted to kiss her more, so I got up to brush my teeth. Hillary propped herself up on the pillows and started reading a page from The Onion that was strewn on the floor. I stood in front of the sink brushing for a very long time, but no matter what I did, I couldn’t get all the ground up peanut fragments out of my mouth.

“You’ll get used to it”, Hillary said.

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the natural winkers

read clooney politics george-clooney-wink.jpg My mom was a natural winker. Giver of spontaneous affection and recognizer of human beauty. An intelligence that comes from being sensitive and empathetic. Winkers have a sense of humor which is generous and warm to others, even strangers. Mom was also quite a waver. She waved with her right hand, and her hand moved from left to right once only and ended with a sort of salute to you. She liked George Clooney, and those classic Hollywood dark-haired men with the mischief thing in the smile. Robert Mitchum, Gregory Peck, Cary Grant. It didn’t hurt that George is the nephew of one her favorite singers, Rosemary “C’mon a my House” Clooney.

Mom wasn’t an over-user of the wink. It would come when I didn’t expect it, surprising my heart into feeling like it was the house we were all sitting in. I felt not only special, but that she liked who I was, maybe remembered me as her baby, her toddler, her teenager, her runaway…I was her child who became her cohort. In that wink, Mom reminded me that she was still a secret conductor of love and laughter under the radar of normal family frequencies, and that I need never worry about not being known in this world.