My Odd Dream of Couples Therapy with a "Trump Bro" and His Long-Suffering Girlfriend

Sunday, November 10, 2024.

I had a dream last night… it woke me up in a cold sweat. It all started with a conversation with Al Pacino… sorta..

In this country, you gotta make the money first. Then when you get the money, you get the power. Then when you get the power, then you get the women. Tony Montana

…and then you get the good science-based couples therapy. Daniel Dashnaw

I always get the final word in my dreams…

So, they sit down on the couch in my office—the Trump Bro, Marco and his girlfriend, Blanche.

Marco lives his life as he sees fit, bless his heart.

In my dream, I knew that Marco inherited 15 apartment complexes, a half dozen luxury car dealerships across 3 southern states, and about 150 Million in cash from his father who passed away at 56 from liver disease.

Marco is generous, church-going, and a true pillar of the community when chooses to venture outside.

He’s also loved and deeply revered by his younger siblings, Rory, Darrell, and Darla, who run the day to day operations of the family businesses.

Fresh from a party, he’s decked out in red, white, and blue, like a Fourth of July lawn ornament, complete with the cap, proudly proclaiming his loyalty. I can tell right off this isn’t gonna be a typical couple.

Blanche meanwhile, looks like she’s been dragged here against her will, clutching her phone like it’s a lifeline to the outside world. She seems both amused and exhausted.

“Daniel,” she says, cutting straight to the chase, “I just don’t know how much more I can take.” She glances over at him, and he flashes her a look of endearing obliviousness.

“What seems to be the problem?” I ask, clicked-pen ready, my best therapeutic voice on.

“Well,” Blanche begins, “we used to bond over Game of Thrones marathons and random road trips. Now, all he does is game and watch Barron Trump on Twitch. I mean, he’s practically in his gaming chair at this point.” She looks genuinely pained. “He calls it his command post.”

Marco grins, nodding in agreement. “I’m leveling up,” he says proudly, as if this were some kind of career advancement. “Barron’s actually an underrated strategist.”

“Not that I mind gaming!” she insists, turning back to me. “I really don’t. But he has conversations with his friends online like they’re leading a movement. They talk about ‘taking back the leaderboard’ like they’re storming the beach at Normandy. And, God forbid, I suggest going outside.”

He cuts in, defensively. “Hey, this is bigger than just a game. We’re representing a way of life—traditional values, grit, grinding… stuff you wouldn’t get, honey.”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s Minecraft, for heaven’s sake.”

I nod, doing my best to keep a straight face. In my dream, it’s the hardest work I’ll do in the session. Seriously. “So, it sounds like you feel a bit... left out?”

I ask her, hoping to guide us into productive territory, but desperate find hard, ordinary ground.

“Left out? I feel like I’m dating a political cartoon! I just want to talk about, you know, life. Anything not involving a keyboard.” Blanche sighs, deeply. “He actually said ‘Make Minecraft Great Again’ last week, with a straight face.”

“Oh, you should have seen the new realm I built,” Marco interrupts excitedly, oblivious to her existential crisis. “Complete with a miniature White House replica. The fellas and I—our strategy is impeccable. Barron says it’s all about ‘trusting the system.’”

At this, I look at him. “How does she fit into all of this?”

Marco’s genuinely puzzled by my brilliant and incisive question. “She’s the support team. You know, keeps the snacks coming, makes sure I don’t get too distracted.”

Blanche’s jaw drops. “Support team? I’m the support team?”

“That’s what I said!” He looks to me for approval.

I clear my throat. “So, you’re asking her to fill a role she doesn’t exactly want,” I say diplomatically, noting her suppressed urge to throw a pillow at him. “Do you think maybe you could expand her role a bit?”

Marco looks thoughtful, and there’s a glimmer of hope in Blanche’s eyes. Maybe this session will turn things around.

“Well… she could be the head of morale?”

Her glimmer fades.

“Morale?”

“Yeah!” Marco bounces, warming up to the idea. “Like, keeping the energy high in the house. Maybe doing a little ‘let’s go, champ!’ type of thing when I’m in the middle of an intense raid. Just really… pump me up, you know?”

She closes her eyes. I’m almost positive she’s picturing her next boyfriend.

I turn to her, giving her a sympathetic look. “What do you think?” I ask gently.

“I think… if he says ‘the swamp’ one more time, I’ll lose it.”

“Metaphorically, though,” Marco adds helpfully, trying to soften things. “I mean, I don’t actually believe Minecraft has a swamp.”

For a moment, we’re all silent. Then, I ask him, “Do you think maybe you could spend some quality time with her that doesn’t involve games or Barron?”

Marco blinks at me, like I’m speaking a foreign language. But then something in his face softens. “Well, maybe... she could watch the stream with me?”

I turn back to Blanche, sensing that my time as a therapist might be up. She’s trying to laugh, as Marco looks proud, thinking he’s cracked the code.

I say to her, “Have you considered setting some boundaries?”

Blanche also bounces and light up. “Yes! Boundaries! Like, maybe a limit on the Barron-watching hours, and one night a week for just us—no Minecraft, no gaming friends, just us. And maybe… a cap on ‘Make X Great Again’ phrases?”

He nods, thoughtfully. “Maybe,” he says, after a long pause. “I could do that.”

It’s not exactly a breakthrough, but in this line of work, you take what you can get. Wait.. I never say that. And then I woke up.

Geez… I gotta go back to bed.

Be Well, Stay Kind, and Godspeed.