the mystery of the broken vase

Dream 1

A view looking across a street. I'm not sure if I was physically there or if I just sort of had a floating view of the scene. The street was the street in front of the property my mom's boyfriend JT lived at while I was growing up.

My view floated across the street, first toward a couple of people, maybe a mother and a son wrapped up in a blanket, who sat in some tall grass near a small irrigation ditch. But then it floated off toward the right, perhaps like it was following the irrigation ditch along the road.

As my view floated across the street, I could hear (and maybe see, somewhere else), Donald Trump talking about some mystery. Apparently the mystery ended with a shattered vase. The vase was made of some green-painted porcelain that was lined either with gold or with gold-painted porcelain.

Donald Trump said, maybe to TV reporters or some audience being filmed for TV, that he didn't understand what people's problem with his presidency was. After all, he was giving them all kinds of exciting mysteries, like the mystery of the broken vase, wasn't he?

As my view floated along the ditch, I thought to myself that, yeah, the broken vase mystery was fine. The broken vase was kind of interesting in itself. And it was harmless. And maybe if things just stayed at stuff like a broken vase mystery, people would have fun with Trump's presidency. But he was actually ruining lives. And there was no good perspective from which to look at that fact.