I had a dream that I devised a plot against President Bush. I found a window at the book depository, with a clear view of Bush’s motorcade. As the limo drove by, I carefully aimed my precision megaphone and I said, so that only he could hear it, “Hey, Bush. You’re fat!” Immediately, he burst into tears. The secret service crowded around him and the limo sped away.
I ran and hid out in a construction site.
Later, I read about it in the paper. They said that he was the first sitting president to be told that he was fat, while in office.