Okay, so first I'm running and running in slow motion, and I can't get anywhere, and then suddenly I'm in this nightclub. And Tim Russert is there, but he's in a leopard print dress, you know? And he's wearing lipstick, and the thing is, he looks good, except it's kind of a little too high over his top lip, which ages him a little. Anyway, he introduces me to a naked blonde called Martina, and it turns out she's a dancer in the club, and then suddenly I'm in a library! Wild, huh? And a man comes up and he's this Martina's father, only he's small and Russian, and he asks me if I know if his daughter is still working at some place called Brewster-Jennings. Well, I was the White House Press Secretary, I certainly know enough not to tell a guy his daughter is a dancer. It could get her in trouble.
Then I find myself in a restaurant, eating Libby strained peas, Libby strained carrots, and I'm sitting across from a strained looking Libby. But here's the wildest part of the dream, and I have some wild dreams believe you me! I think I even testified to that. Well, he's an actual scooter! I'm eating lunch with a talking scooter, who is also wearing lipstick (on his handle bars), but it's applied perfectly, except he did that dark liner thing around the lips and it's kind of bridge and tunnel, which I guess is okay if you're actually a piece of transportation. While he's going on and on about CIA this and CIA that, I see the guy at the next table pocket the salt shaker. And then our waitress comes over, and she's Patrick Fitzgerald! This might be my wildest dream yet. He's in a pink waitress uniform, very Alice, no lipstick (I always thought Linda Lavin could have used a brighter shade, but hey, I know when to keep my mouth shut, which is why I was the White House Press Secretary). Well, I say nothing to him about the guy stealing the salt shaker. I was the White House Press Secretary, and I certainly know outing a guy who took a salt shaker could get him in big trouble.
The last part of the dream is even wilder. Yes, I think this is my wildest dream. I'm in Amsterdam, walking down a street of houses bordering a canal, and there are German soldiers marching past me, yet I feel perfectly safe. I'm eating a big waffle with whipped cream and berries, listening to an ipod (I told you it was wild!) just enjoying the day. For no reason I look up, and I see this pretty young dark haired girl at an attic window, just for a second. She's gone in an instant, and the curtain is back over the window undisturbed. So I yell, "Anne!!! Anne!!! It's me, the White House Press Secretary!!" And all the soldiers stop marching and run towards the house. Oh boy, I hope I didn't get myself in trouble.