Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz A Dream About Barack Obama
posted by September 11 at 9:31 AM
onLast night I had a dream. Steve Martin had just given a former professor of mine a half-dozen brightly patterned neckties, and I dearly wanted to ask to have one. (I am a fan of Martin’s early work.) Instead, I found myself saying I was moving to California, as there were no jobs in Seattle.
Suddenly in Los Angeles, I walked across an unevenly paved bridge over a highway. On the other side: nowhere, just abandoned buildings and a sense of doom. I was afraid. Up ahead, Barack Obama appeared, carrying a large golden trophy. I watched myself catch up to him, then as the two of us were attacked by street people—homeless people and meth-doers and gang members and assorted stereotypically terrifying characters. Most were minorities. From afar, I watched as I was dragged away to some nefarious place, some awful end. Barack Obama eventually escaped the attack and walked on, still holding his golden trophy. I woke up, shaken, at 5:30 this morning.
I think I need a prescription to get through this election.
Comments
At least you remember your dreams. The only time I do is when I'm incredibly sick. Usually the flu. My dreams are incredibly weird, and I never seem to get laid in them, so whatever.
The first incredibly is not supposed to be there. Now I'm filled with rage.
"no one cares what you dreamt about last night, unless you dreamt about them." - built to spill.
everyone in your dream is you.
I've been traveling in my dreams this week as well. I was shocked into lucidity for a few moments when I found myself outside of Les Halles on Park Ave. last night.