I had a dream about Donald Trump a few nights ago. In the dream, I remember being kind of nervous because I was about to meet him. I was led into a room where he was wearing a yellow pullover sweater and looked younger, more energetic than he does in real life.
He said to me, “Yeah, I’ve known about you for years. And listen,” he said, as though dispensing friendly advice, “You’re too serious. You have to lighten up!”
Okaaay…
Now to a real life sort-of encounter we once had in the mid-1990’s. I had founded a non-profit organization that served AIDS patients in LA called The Los Angeles Center for Living, and we began a similar project in New York. A lovely golf pro named Charlotte McGiniss contacted me to say she wanted to start one in Palm Beach, Florida.
She was excited to tell me that Marla Maples, Trump’s then wife, had said they could use Mar-A-Lago to host their first fundraiser. I asked her if she needed me to come down for the event and she said no, it was all taken care of and there was no need for me to be there. On the day of their fundraiser I was working in New York City when Donald Trump’s office called the Manhattan Center. “Donald Trump’s office is on the line,” I was told. “They want to know what time you’re coming down.”
I said, “Oh no, I have a baby daughter in Los Angeles and I have to go back there this afternoon! The people in Palm Beach told me everything is handled - we went through every detail - so they don’t need me at the event. Please tell Mr. Trump how excited everyone is!”
Then, five minutes later, another call from Donald Trump’s office. “Mr. Trump says the only reason I said they could use Mar-A-Lago is because my wife wants to meet that woman! If she doesn’t get down here, the event is called off.”
I quickly flew down, of course. Trump was not at the event but Marla, whom I had never met before, was magnificent. In those days not a lot of people were hosting parties for young men sick with AIDS, and I remember well how she sat chatting with them until late into the night. She gave a gift to those young men that was extraordinary. Credit where credit is due.
Then there was one more moment where my path intersected Donald Trump’s. It was during the 2016 campaign, and one day I answered my phone to find a producer from Access Hollywood on the line. “Listen,” he said. “I think you might be interested in this. You know that Billy Bush “pussy tape” with Donald Trump? Well, you were on that tape too.”
“Really, I said? In what way?”
”Trump said to Billy Bush, ‘So who is Marianne Williamson?’ and Billy responded by telling him all about your work with the AIDS community, your books and lectures, etc. Then Trump said, ‘Really? Is she hot?’ And Bush said, ‘Nah, she’s old.” I was fifty-two.
The producer asked me if I wanted the tape, but I remember telling him I didn’t want to touch it with a ten-foot pole. Since then, I wish I had said yes. I think it would have been interesting to hear.
A couple of nights ago I rewatched the extraordinary movie The Apprentice, about Trump’s relationship with the late Machiavellian figure Roy Cohen. It’s a fascinating depiction of Trump’s slide into the dark side of power. Cohen taught him the cardinal rules of being “a killer” - which to him meant “a winner.” Attack, attack, attack comes first. Then Admit nothing; deny everything, and Claim victory and never admit defeat. There were also additional ditties like If someone comes after you with a knife, hit them back with a bazooka, There is no truth except what you say it is, and This isn’t a nation of laws; it’s a nation of men.
A very illuminating movie. I highly recommend it.
And here we are. I remember Marla telling me that night at Mar-A-Lago that she saw her role in his life as something like reminding Trump of his softer, loving side. I could say something cynical like, “Clearly, she failed,” but that’s too easy. Something bigger is going on here than just Donald Trump’s personality. His story is what I think of as Dark Americana. It’s a part of who we are, and we miss the point if we project all the darkness onto him.
For decades we’ve moved closer and closer - socially, politically and economically - to a collective mentality perhaps best described as “I don’t give a fuck.” We didn’t give a fuck that a million people died in Iraq, or that thousands of American lives and trillions of taxpayer dollars were wasted under the guise of “national defense” when in fact it was all to feed the U.S. war machine, or that millions of Americans steadily lost access to the rudiments of a dignified productive life, or that we were destroying the planet, or that our democracy was being corrupted by the greedy fingers of multi-headed corporate monster with no name. Huge media companies continued making billions selling us pablum and calling it journalism. The entire country became obsessed by a myriad of what should properly be considered pursuits appropriate for twelve-year-olds. Layers of rot and corruption corroded American civilization from within, obscured too often by the glamour and glitz of a morally neutral popular culture.
The political ascent of Donald Trump was a symptom, not a cause, of our descent. He is a human manifestation of our spiritual void. I doubt that his original goal was to destroy democracy. I don’t even think he thinks about democracy or what it means to the world. He only thinks of what it means to him, and it’s more and more obvious that he sees it as an inconvenience. It gets in the way of his plans, like a problem to get rid of. And this time, there are a multitude of Roy Cohens whispering in his ear ways to do that.
Yet isn’t that Dark Americana in a nutshell? The constant refrain, what’s in it for me? What will make me a winner? Long gone are the days when we were more likely to ask ourselves, what will make me good? Late Twentieth Century America was a celebration of the amoral, and the amoral will always lead to immoral consequences. That made us easy prey for Donald Trump, just as a young Donald Trump was easy prey for Roy Cohen. It makes all of us easy prey for the darkness of the world, which is the darkness in our hearts, which goes by many names.
But Donald Trump didn’t emerge that way from the womb. He had and has family members of decency and honor. Thus the tragedy of the human condition. As with any human being, things could have gone either way.
A friend of mine told me recently that she thinks the fascist juggernaut now assaulting our country will fall apart. Something will break, she argues, and of course it’s possible. I believe in miracles. I have faith in my fellow Americans, who are pushing hard, despite the obstacles, to do whatever they can to resist Trump’s dictatorship-in-the-making. An inhumane corporate monarchy is not the will of the majority of Americans, for whom the wounded, broken dream of “liberty and justice for all” is still worth saving no matter what it costs. More and more, however, this too is obvious: We will not remain the land of the free if we’re not willing to be the home of the brave.
Perhaps I’ll meet Trump in a dream again. I would turn to him and say, “No, YOU lighten up!” My subconscious was onto something, I think. There is a light that casts out the darkness, not just in the world but in all of us. And that means in him too.
You don’t have to be naive about evil to believe there’s a power great enough to cast it out. I don’t hate Trump; I pray for him. Perhaps he can still yet turn.
"The political ascent of Donald Trump was a symptom, not a cause, of our descent. He is a human manifestation of our spiritual void."
so true.
I pray for all of them, even though they break my heart 🙏