Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz A Dream About Barack Obama
posted by September 11 at 9:31 AMon
Last 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.