I got on an elevator in a skyscraper. A man in a suit stepped onto the elevator with me. I pushed the button for the tenth floor. I turned and saw that the man in the suit was using a breast pump. I could not see the part that attached to him, just the tubing and the bottles that collect the milk. In the ten seconds that it took us to reach the tenth floor, he filled both 5 oz bottles. WOW! I thought admiringly. He is really productive! The man was Barack Obama.
13 May 2008
I was in my dining room with Barack and he was writing his date of birth on a piece of paper. I noticed that the year was 1974 and I was shocked -- he had been lying about his age! I didn't confront him about it, but rather got up and left the house.
08 May 2008
I was on a bus coming home from University and Barack came and sat beside me. I don't know how I knew it was him, because I don't follow the election at all. He was wearing a dirty suit and smelled bad. I was reading and he asked me what I was reading. I showed him the book: The Lord of the Rings. I've never seen that movie! he exclaimed. Then he gave me his business card from his wallet. It was really cheap, like something printed off a school computer, and Senator was misspelled. He got up to get nachos from the bus concession and I put my backpack on his chair so he wouldn't sit by me again.
I’m at a Harvard Law School alumni event and manage to get up the nerve to sit next to Barack. I extend my hand and say Good afternoon, Senator. I introduce myself and say, Class of 2006. He says, Barack Obama, class of 1991. For a moment we share a conspiratorial smile, like we’ve played a private game in which he's just another fellow alum. Then he turns away. I can feel his tiredness, his desire to stop moving, to breathe, to rest.
After the event I’m walking towards Harvard Square and I see him walking towards the T station. He’s wearing an Oxford cloth shirt and slacks, and is pulling a roller suitcase. I smile and ask if he would like a ride to the airport. He says he’s fine with the subway. I tell him it’s no trouble, that my car is right around the corner.
Then he is in my bed wearing blue striped boxers. I have a perfect apartment in Harvard Square (not so in real life!). The room has a bohemian look, all earth tones and Indian prints. The afternoon sun is coming through the window above the bed.
I remember the intense conversation we shared, and think about how I offered him my bed for a nap. We're talking less intensely now. I’m reclining on the side of the bed, not touching him, but am very close and the attraction is palpable. We fall silent and our eyes meet. Then we kiss very softly.
I can feel his desire to relax, to be himself, to lose himself here. I realize this could never be kept a secret. I know how disastrous it would be for the man about to be our country’s first black president to have an affair with a white woman twenty years his junior. I cannot risk any chance of being the woman who will cost our country his presidency. I put my hand on his chest and say, This is getting really dangerous really fast.
05 May 2008
Barack and I were at a large gathering, perhaps the Democratic convention, which was held in a huge, ornate, complex, dark-ish, official building like the Capitol. We were sitting together at the back of the hall in the last row, leaning our chairs against the wall as we listened to speeches. He put his arm around my shoulders like we were kids on a movie date. It was a nice feeling, but at the same time I was wondering if he had a record of womanizing, since I knew he was married and had seen his wife in the crowd.
Then I realized my dress had fallen down to my waist. I was a little uncomfortable about being exposed, but no one noticed since we were covered by a blanket. He then stretched out behind me, full-length, spoon-like, and wrapped his arms around me. It felt warm and protective and slightly sexual, but I said, I'm sorry, I really can't do this. Michelle would have me for lunch. I pulled my dress back on and excused myself, saying I had to take my cat (who had appeared on my lap) home.
03 May 2008
A chubby young black boy thought I was Obama, and wanted me to sign a postcard. I had to tell him no. He looked mildly taken aback, withdrew the postcard and then, with a tiny solemn smile, held out a handwritten note, rolled up so all I could see was the first word. I woke up wondering what the heck he wanted me to read.
28 April 2008
I have been invited to attend the birth of Barack and Michelle's child in a beautiful landscaped park. Once it's confirmed that Michelle's contractions are five minutes apart, she is slowly driven away in a convertible to a more secluded location with Barack walking alongside the car. He is wearing a brown leather jacket with the collar turned up like James Dean, and as I see him follow the car I think how much fun with the baby he'll miss out on due to the demands of the Presidential campaign.
I'm staying at the Obama residence with Barack and his wife. The guest spot on the floor is uncomfortable, so I get into bed with the happy couple. Michelle is sandwiched the middle. Barack has his arm around his wife, but he's stroking my ear the way a lover might.
I am rowing in a kayak on a cloudy day. I feel tired, humiliated and discouraged. The other rowers can't believe how bad I am. In a moment alone, my trainer, Barack Obama, approaches me in his grey-blue track suit, puts one of his sneakers on my kayak and his hand on my shoulder. He gives me a good pep talk about determination and not backing down. He also says, You shouldn't even be this tired, and gives me proper rowing techniques. Then I feel better. Even if I am going to lose that day, I at least have the sense that I had tried my best.
26 April 2008
I'm going to visit my father at work in Washington D.C. I am waiting in a particularly long line at a Metro station when I get to the front, and who should be there but Barack Obama! The metro turns out to be not a metro at all -- it's a large, high-speed roller coaster! Me and Barack strap into a dangling car and get ready to go! We also apparently know each other, which I don't find odd.
We make some brief conversation and I tell him that I am a supporter of his and he thanks me. He is really nice. We continue to ride the roller coaster and when the ride ends, we say good-bye and wave. He might as well have been a friend of mine.
I was at a planning meeting with Barack and his handlers. They were talking about a televised town hall program they were going to participate in that night.
I decided to fly up to the ceiling to see what Barack's reaction would be. He kept talking with his handlers and pretty much ignored the fact that I was hovering over him. They were growing more animated as they discussed a woman who was going to be in the audience. She had contributed a lot of money to the campaign and Barack wanted to be able to answer her questions during the show, but he needed a way to identify her. Someone suggested they paint her face bright red. I thought that was too obvious and suggested they just paint a red X on her neck. They liked that idea.
Though I'm a Hillary supporter, I woke up feeling a bit more positive towards Barack.
Barack and I were walking around this dangerous neighborhood at night. There were no people around, just angry rabid dogs. I kept turning down the wrong street and the dogs would come out of nowhere and start chasing me. Barack would grab my hand and make me run the other way so we could escape them. The dream went on and on like this. I kept turning down the same alley and facing the same dogs and Barack kept pulling me to safety.
I had this dream the night Hillary won Pennyslvaia.
I was driving along and looked up and saw Obama’s plane flying through the sky. He was on his way to another rally after the Pennsylvania primaries.
Suddenly, the plane began lurching about and flying haphazardly. I sensed with dread what was going to happen next: the plane plunged from the sky and crashed in a big fiery explosion.
Everyone was very emotional and heartbroken. People were devastated and weeping in the streets. It was as if all of our hopes and dreams for this country had crashed and burned with the plane.
I saw news cameramen clambering over each other to film Obama’s broken body that had been recovered from the crash. I was disgusted with their voyeurism and ruthlessness.
24 April 2008
Just before waking, I have this dream: I was in a town on the Hudson River which has a view south towards New York City. Walking through the town's hilly streets, I catch glimpses of Obama walking by, usually no more than a block away. He's wearing a riotously colorful jacket, a sort of deconstructed plaid.
The streets are empty, like early morning when the commuters all troop down to the train. His expression is intense and thoughtful, with a small smile, as if he's composing a speech in his head as he walks, or listening to something only he can hear. He leans forward as he walks.
On the overlook above the river, there is a outdoor setup of a news crew -- maybe ABC -- and they are interviewing Michelle Obama. She looks like that awful picture of her on the cover of the National Review. Someone else is standing off to the side, waiting his turn. He's wearing a mudcloth skullcap.
I don't see anyone else in the town, but I walk by an office and hear two women who look like they are from the Caribbean discussing the election. They seem to be in good humor.
23 April 2008
I was in an office where I had worked as a temp. The space was almost Japanese, with large, simple black leather furniture. It was now the headquarters of Barack's campaign in Boston.
I was explaining to my friends that when I worked here, I kept a bottle of Bailey's on the bottom shelf behind the desk. My friend Jay came to sit on me, but I moved out of the way. Then to my surprise, Barack entered the office.
He greeted Jay like a good friend, then proceeded to comically sit on Jay, squashing him. I was pretty glad I wasn't at the bottom of that pile. It was very impressive how close a friend Barack Obama was to Jay.
21 April 2008
I'm watching The Today Show (and do not find anything odd about this for some reason). A breaking news graphic springs to life on the screen, and I see a shot of a very dirty toilet. The voice-over says that it's Barack's dirty toilet. What they're implying is: Do we really want a man who doesn't keep his toilet clean running the country?
Barack replies. He's like, Seriously?
18 April 2008
I'm at summer camp with my husband's family and one of the evening's activities is a Purim party. Campers are randomly selected to play parts in a reenactment of the Purim story, and Barack is chosen to play Haman. Everyone at the camp (mostly Barack supporters, apparently) is disappointed that Barack, clearly a hero in real life, is to play the villain in the skit, but he's a good sport, and we are all impressed with his acting skills.
16 April 2008
I'm on a small, propeller-type old-fashioned airplane. I am helping the other passengers stow their luggage and things in the overhead bins, although I am not a flight attendant, just a helpful fellow passenger. Barack appears behind me, patting me on the shoulder and saying positive, encouraging things to suggest I am doing a good job. I feel his tone is patronizing, since I am obviously not an airline employee.
15 April 2008
It has been on the news for a few days that Barack is having stomach problems. I decide he needs some peanut butter cookies and set about baking a batch. Then I find myself in a bakery. The walls are lined with Tupperware containers of cookies and Barack is there with this girl I know from somewhere. He is eating her cookies and says politely that mine are not the right consistency. Then the two of them leave together.
I wake up with a new fund raising idea for the Obama campaign in my head: an iPhone-Obama collaboration where every time you hit the snooze button on your iPhone alarm clock, you automatically donate a dollar to his campaign.
I am in the back of a helicopter with Barack, flying over the the waters of Cape Town. After a pleasant conversation, he slides open the door and I leap into the air. As I fall, I began to see the dark grey outlines of sharks swimming in the waters below. I am being dropped far from shore and I know I'll have to swim a long way back. More and more shadows appear and I splash down into the waters with the full knowledge that there are sharks everywhere around me. I am terrified. I tell myself it's only a dream.
Barack and I are dating and it's pretty serious. He wants to get married but I tell him I won't unless he passes two particular bills. They are awesome; the equivalent of universal health care and free college education for everyone.
We find ourselves at a big party. (I'm pretty sure it's the same place Roslin announced that Baltar had won the vice-presidency in Battlestar Galactica.) Barack takes the stage. He makes an announcement that he will introduce the two bills to Congress.
Watching him, I know that, in some way, he's doing it for me.
12 April 2008
Barack, Michelle, my husband, our daughter and I all went to the mall together. We walked through the racks at Macy's looking at clothes. Michelle spent the time entertaining my daughter by pretending to try on silly shirts she found. Barack was holding forth on how Macy's was a symbol of the American experience in the 21st century. I had trouble hearing him because my daughter kept laughing and distracting me.
We all walked together to the food court where we sat down and discussed the American experience some more over bad mall food. I tried to make some joke about how unsavory the American experience must be if it tasted like what we were eating, but I was nervous and the joke didn't go over too well. Barack leaned in and said, Well, my middle name isn't 'Middleman' is it.
What? I asked.
My middle name isn't 'Middleman' is it? he repeated, as if expecting me to laugh.
I wasn't sure if I'd heard him right, but I thought he might be making a joke about how his life was much more international than this suburban shopping mall. I started to laugh tentatively, glancing at Michelle to see if I was correct in thinking he had made a joke. She was already laughing.
Ok, so I'm not the best joke teller. I hope that doesn't ruin your image of me, he said.
It didn't. Actually, I thought it was both endearing and funny.
Barack and I were hanging out with a security guard in a building in DC. He leaned in and whispered to me that he had been in love with me since we'd been in grade school together. He started singing Dolly Parton's I Will Always Love You, but really quiet because he didn't want anyone to hear, and because of Michelle.
10 April 2008
I'm at Barack's inauguration. There's a representative speaking at the podium introducing him, when suddenly there is shouting and I see a group of people wearing the white hoods of the Ku Klux Klan. There's a lot of commotion and they're yelling and causing a disturbance, which actually turns out to be a diversion, because I see someone rush the podium and shoot the person who was speaking, then start heading for Barack. There is a total absence of secret service and security, and my heart starts racing as I fear they're going to make it to Barack.
I am on my back on a bed in a Motel 6, fully clothed; Michelle Obama is straddling me and holding my arms over my head. This is not sexual. Michelle does not look like herself -- she actually resembles one of my colleagues, an African-American woman about her age. I cannot figure out why Michelle feels she has to hold me down -- it seems there has been some misunderstanding.
Barack is about to address an audience in the motel room, but I can't see him or the crowd. His speech goes very well. Afterward, Michelle lets me get up, then she and Barack and I have a conversation about race in America. We agree about almost everything and have a lot of esteem for one another.
07 April 2008
I was at a Barack Obama rally on the steps of Congress in Washington, D.C. Barack announced that he wanted to change his middle name to be more patriotic and show his commitment to being a true American. He said from that day forward, his middle name would no longer be Hussein -- it would be Congress: Barack Congress Obama.
I was walking a large dog on a leash when Barack approached with small dog on a leash. In order to let them pass, I let go of the leash of the big dog. The dog ran off and I felt guilty. Later, I spoke with my husband to tell him that I once again let go of the dog's leash to let Barack and his dog go by. My husband insisted that I be firm and hold my ground while letting them pass.
06 April 2008
04 April 2008
I went to see a Rufus Wainwright concert with some friends in an abandoned building. We climbed up a green ladder into the balcony. Sitting sulkily in the corner was John Travolta, and in the row behind me was Barack. Rufus, looking chubbier than usual, said he wanted everyone to come down and take a group picture with him. Barack tapped me on the shoulder and said he didn't want to go down because it would make a scene, so would I please take a picture for him? I said, Sure, Barack Obama, and he handed me a disposable camera.
I was on a train with a group of friends riding through some indefinite European country. We were drinking beer from large cans and playing cards. Obama was on the train with an entourage doing press of some sort. He wasn’t wearing a jacket -- it was a casual look. He came by and talked with us for a while, asking us where we were headed. I was confused and couldn’t remember where exactly we were going. I was very nervous because I didn’t want to be on camera with him.
I have lots of dreams about riding on trains, though usually I’m alone. Not being sure where I’m headed is a common theme, which is sorta depressingly easily to psychoanalyze.
Barack shakes our hands and exchanges pleasantries with us. He is very cordial and interested in what my boy has to say. We go to leave to meet my wife and Barack thanks us for our time and we part ways. I feel very privileged to meet him. He leaves the impression that the honor was his.
02 April 2008
Barack was teaching a seminar outdoors next to a castle arched over a river like the Chenonceau in France. When I arrived at the riverbank, I found friends from high school and college wearing bedsheets wrapped around their bodies, standing waist-deep in the river in tight formation. They lowered themselves into the water in unison and emerged without looking at each other or speaking a word. As they did this over and over, I sat on a wall by the riverbank next to Barack and apologized for being late. I asked if I should get in, too. I didn't want him to know that I had no idea what this demonstration was about.
He told me not to worry about it and took out a book to read.
Barack was scheduled to give a speech while sitting on my bed -- but it was really a bed in the home of my Republican in-laws.
He sat near my pillow while I watched from the other side of the room. There were many people there, filling the house, including a reporter I kept trying to distract so she wouldn't discover my in-laws' political leanings.
Just before the speech was to start, Barack noticed something on his wife's shoe. She was standing at the foot of the bed. He picked it up and it was a bank receipt. It showed -1000 and it turned out that she had overdrawn a campaign fund.
He was starting to get angry when I woke up.
01 April 2008
I was back in college along with my two younger brothers and my now-deceased mother. I kept running into Barack Obama. He'd stop and hassle me for not being politically active enough. He kept saying that he knew my dad and he'd be very disappointed with me for not doing enough. I would slip away and get involved in the college drama (like not having done any of the problem sets before a big math exam) but then I would again run into Barack who would hassle me for my lack of activism.
I was at a Barack rally and since I arrived early, I was sitting on the stage talking to Barack. He was trying to convince me, in a subtle and kind way, that I should vote -- not just for him, but in general. People began to fill the room, and I sat on a chair toward the back of the stage.
I found his speech compelling and invigorating. I knew that he was the president we needed. He was full of compassion and insight. When he finished, most people began filing out, but some milled around like teenagers at a concert, waiting, hoping for a moment with their favorite musician.
Barack stepped off the stage and greeted them, spending a few moments with each. Then he returned to me and we picked up our conversation from where we had left off -- discussing Will Truman from the TV show Will & Grace.
I woke feeling like I should vote for Barack Obama, or at least think about registering.
I was sitting in my high school classroom back in the Ukraine. It was well lit. Barack Obama was sitting near the back, by the window. He was wearing a big white turban. He was calm and was singing. The song, the sound, the music he was making was unbelievably beautiful. It was so beautiful that everyone was silently listening to him. The music was so touchy I almost couldn't take it. It was ancient language and sounded like a gospel. I never had such experience from listening to music. It was a pure catharsis.
I was at Barack's house preparing a party for him and his supporters. It was a huge atrium-like modern space with thirty-foot ceilings and a balcony running along the sides.
Instead of setting up, my friend and I decided to look inside the closets and drawers at all of Michelle's legendary couture clothing. We pulled out all these Gucci, Prada and Valentino dresses. One drawer was entirely filled with beautiful gloves. Unfortunately, people starting arriving and we had to stuff all the clothes back into the drawers and closets.
All throughout the party I kept worrying because I knew that she would know we had been through her closets and drawers.
Barack and I had a dinner date where I was too shy to ask him the pressing political questions that were on my mind. I could only think to ask the well-worn question, Where did the expression, "Audacity of Hope" come from?
From de Tocqueville, he said, and gave me two volumes to read.
After dinner, propped up against the counter, he couldn't stop gazing into my eyes. The inevitable, delicious kiss followed. I thought of how I had to consider Michelle and not let it go any farther than that, but then he admitted he had something he wanted to show me. He then took off his clothes and placed me on his lap. Under my female genitalia he arranged to show his own, and they looked a lot like mine. I touched them to be sure, and they felt a lot like mine. I reached under them to see if he had male genitalia and asked him softly, Do you have a penis, also?
He said, No.
I was touched that he felt comfortable enough to share that with me, and didn't feel he was any less masculine for his female genitalia.
Barack came to our town to hold a rally in a small room in a wooden house. He stayed a long time and there were many side events. His handlers kept failing to show up to whisk him away, but he took it all with with good humor, enjoying his interaction with ordinary folks.
At one point, we all rushed out to a local furniture store to see the two gold sofas Barack had just purchased. He said he had been looking everywhere for sofas that were really gold -- not yellow or orange. We were proud he had found them in our humble town.
I was taking a cooking class from Barack Obama. Every Monday evening he showed up to teach us cooking, even though he was still immersed in the presidential campaign. As he came in to the classroom, he looked very calm and started talking about today's lesson.
He said that today we would be cooking seafood, and that it was important that the food be fresh. So we all went out on a boat and traveled along a rocky shore. It was already night and we went into a cave. After a while, the crew told him we were there, and Barack started telling us what we were going to catch.
All along, I was so touched that he would take time out from his campaign just for the twelve of us, but it seemed very important to him. I got the sense that this break from campaigning was important to him, and I wondered where he had been earlier that day.
My boss wanted to hire this anarchist with a loud personality and tattoos on her throat. She seemed feral to me, and I had doubts about how well she would fit into our office culture. My boss and I went to her apartment, which was a mess. Dozens of people lived there. There were two coat racks, which were destabilized by the weight of many winter coats. The anarchist was very confessional and soon told us that she was Barack's niece.
Then we were on the campaign trail. It was literally a trail: a wide, dusty, Old Western trail. Barack asked my college best friend and I to go into a hotel bedroom. Then he asked us if we would have sex with him. He was polite and reserved, and when we said no, he seemed neither disappointed nor surprised. I did kiss him, and it felt solid.
Once we were back on the trail, I felt suddenly charged with a mission. I argued that it was important that no one find out that Barack's niece is unhinged and living in an urban commune. I said that if the press got hold of a photo of her moldy and filthy bathroom, it would mean big trouble for Barack. Plus, I said, I heard that she was planning on installing a gun holster in her shower curtain.
30 March 2008
I was at a resort. There was a building we all passed through to get to the beach. Barack Obama was there greeting the guests of the resort as we came in. He walked with me a few steps and made sure I had towels and a drink before going out on the beach. I relaxed for a while, then decided to shower there. I returned to the building where a friendly and helpful Barack showed me to an empty shower. I showered. Feeling relaxed and refreshed, I exited the stall and attempted to hang my used towel on a hook outside the door. Barack became serious all of a sudden and told me not to hang up the towel. He said that I had to fold the towel longways in thirds, then roll it jellyroll style. He showed me a basket where I had to place the jellyrolled towel, flat side down. I was no longer relaxed when I looked at the basket with one layer of towels, folded and rolled as he had instructed.
29 March 2008
Barack and a girl friend of mine and I are sitting, talking about politics. Barack says something and I smell alcohol on his breath and I think it's weird that he has alcohol breath. Then I remember we just had a party. He turns away and on the back of his head there are two nails, one higher than the other. I get really upset and say, I know they got him bugged.
He gets up to go brush his teeth from the alcohol breath and I proceed to talk to my girl friend about a secret government that is conspiring and following him. He comes rushing into the room and says he wants to know all about it, and I am shocked he could hear me from the bathroom.
Barack Obama and I were in my bed, having sex; he was on top. Everything was going really well until we saw Michelle in the next room. Even though she couldn't see us, Barack started to get worried and lose his erection. I told him that I was on the birth control pill so there was nothing to worry about; I wouldn't get pregnant and Michelle wouldn't find out. That made him feel better and he got hard again.
27 March 2008
I had a dream it was snowing a lot. I went across the street to do laundry, then next door to get a drink where I met my boyfriend. Obama was in there giving a speech. It wasn’t so bad. It was just like he was talking to everyone privately at a table with strong soft words. It didn’t feel like he was hogging the mic. Obama asked us to take him back to where we were living. We took him to two places that became one: the apartment where we lived, that was dark and cold and poor, and the house down the street some kids we knew lived in whose parents had died. It was beautiful and rich. Sheila and Lauren and someone else were sharing a bed in a cold dark room where the windows were broken. Obama was sitting on the edge of the bed reading a rainbow card I had made myself to not feel so sad. He read it out loud, quietly – he said it was dumb and magical. I was in the hallway, I nodded.
I woke up in the rich house in a huge soft bed with clean sheets and cream carpeting. The windows were broken and all the snow was coming in.
[The Hillary dream...]
26 March 2008
There was a shootout in my home. It was like the wild west, with the women upstairs hiding and the men downstairs shooting. I don't know who was fighting whom, or why. Barack Obama was there. He sat next to me on the couch but sat on my glasses so I could not see.
I am standing in the front row of a large, packed arena. The crowded is going crazy in anticipation for Barack to come out, the atmosphere more rock concert than political rally. Barack finally emerges, only he has long, bright green dreadlocks and he's bouncing around on stage in jeans and a white t-shirt, getting the crowd fired up. He passes up the podium and goes straight to the crowd, ripping his t-shirt off along the way, and gives everyone in the crowd a high-five. The crowd is loving it, but I find myself filled with anxiety, thinking, Wow, I'm glad he has finally found his confidence, but I think this is taking it a bit too far.
In a bright, white room Barack Obama and Osama Bin Laden were fighting. Obama had Bin Laden pinned, when Bin Laden reached up and tried to break Obama's jaw. Obama seized the opportunity to bite two of Bin Laden's fingers off, the middle and ring finger.
Then Obama was in a suit giving a speech and he was in the White House as president. (I assume that the feat was so incredible there was no need for an election, or maybe he was already president.) Each time he would say the part of the speech that garnered applause, he would show the two fingers, which he held up with a small tissue.
Some people and I followed Obama into Lake Michigan. My terror of deep water came to me but then I suddenly knew that I would be able swim in this soft water and stay on the surface and not drown or be afraid.
We swam and swam and then came around a curving shore towards a downtown Chicago harbor where there was a cheering crowd waiting to see him.
But his two baby sons had been playing in the water and were missing. I swam out farther into the lake and found them clinging to some branches. They were cold and barely alive -- just very tiny babies. Just then Obama swam up and he saw that I had found them. He took one and I took the other and we swam them back to shore to where his wife was waiting. One of the babies smiled at me and said my name.
25 March 2008
I'm in Washington, walking past some shallow, marble steps. Barack is sitting there, resting his elbows on his knees and reading from a small book. The book looks just like my journal. I started to panic. Is Barack Obama reading my diary?
Then I realize that I am holding my diary, so he must have one of his own. I think how cool it is that we have the same book in which to record our experiences, even though our lives are so different.
Hey, we have the same book! I call out, and hold up my diary. Barack looks over and smiles warmly but distantly, as though he is pleased by our little connection but is still deep in thought. I turn and walk on, enjoying the spring weather and glad that I was brave enough to speak to him.
I am in a large room with some high-school friends, taking a test Barack has designed. Competition is steep and I am really emotionally invested in doing well. After the test is over, we all sit on the tables and wait for the scores.
Mine comes out in the “weak” category.
Barack starts walking up and down the aisles, acknowledging the people who have scored in the top category. Everyone else becomes an "untouchable" to him. It is like we didn't exist and are of no importance at all. I feel absolutely horrible.
24 March 2008
I am at a nice, big cabin in the mountains of Colorado with some close friends and family, when an unplanned guest shows up. It is Barack Obama. He is so weak he can barely walk.
Some men are helping him into the house. I get close and see that he is crying. I say, It's ok, it's just tears of milk. White tears are streaming down the left side of his face.
The men begin helping him down a wooden deck toward the master bedroom, when Barack slumps down and something comes out from him: it is a big white snowball, followed by a large snow cube carved in an ornate way.
Then the men help him up and he goes into the bedroom to lie down.
My dad and I happen upon a church where Barack is speaking. Entering, I feel a strong sense of being different from the mostly black congregation.
Barack stands at the pulpit, but he is old and pale with a receding, red afro. I am surprised that he is so much less attractive than in my mind.
I know the religious right in the congregation are plotting his downfall. Then something odd falls from his person. It is a round object that resembles a child’s rubbery, flashing Spike Ball.
I know that in the ball lies the success of Barack's campaign. Only one other person sees it fall, and in her eyes I can tell that she also knows of its power.
The average-looking woman and I tussle for the ball and when I come up victorious, I notice a change in the congregation. About half of the African-Americans are now white.
I hand the ball to Michelle, who doesn't thank me. I exit the church and shrug my shoulders at the woman I scuffled with and say, Sorry.
I am with my stepfather's family and they are making me crazy! I get so angry and frustrated that I fall on the floor and start throwing a temper tantrum. My husband arrives and sees me. Without saying anything, he turns on some reggaeton music, which he knows I can’t resist.
I get up and start dancing. We dance and dance and I think, I'm so lucky to be married to somebody who knows exactly what I need! Then I realize, That's not my husband -- that's Barack Obama!
23 March 2008
I met Barack in the West Village while he was campaigning. We made out all over the city and he was a very good kisser. His campaign staff, who were totally unphased by this, prevented Michelle and the media from finding out. Turns out Obama was quite the ladies' man. Everywhere we went, women flirted with him openly and thanked him for past good times. I was so thrilled to be with him, I didn't even feel jealous, just lucky to have had him for a day and possibly as president in the near future.
22 March 2008
I was shopping for counterfeit handbags on a busy street in Chinatown with some of my friends. A number of the vendors had radios tuned to the same station, which was playing a modern jazz song. When the song ended, the DJ said, Now it's time for Barack Obama, live from Hawaii!.
Barack's voice came on, and said, My fellow citizens, this has been a long, hard campaign, and I am very tired. It's a rocky path I must travel and I just don't know if I can make it.
Then he sang Ole Man River and the entire street fell silent. For the duration of the song, everyone just stood and listened.
I am on a cruise with Barack somewhere in the Pacific. My job is to give him advice on campaign strategies. Barack is wearing a brightly-colored hibiscus-printed sarong. He looks so thin and concerned and vulnerable. As my maternal feelings well up, he begins to look more like my boy. I counsel him to take care of himself and to just continue to be himself. I tells him he is wonderful and that I am so proud of him.
I would have liked to have been able to feed him and comfort him, but I held myself back from embracing him in my arms.
I was standing on the sidelines of a baseball game, when I began to speak to one of the outfielders about why I support Obama. Eventually, a large crowd gathered about, listening and cheering as I elaborated on how Bush's war in Iraq and the massive deficit were impeding American progress. I was neither stammering nor hesitating as I spoke. Talking about Obama seemed to eliminate any sense of self-doubt or uncertainty about my value as an individual.
Barack and I had plans to drive to the outlet mall that afternoon. As we left my house and walked toward my husband’s Ford Explorer, we laughed like two old friends. He gave me a playful nudge and said, I just love you! This made me ridiculously happy. When we reached the car, he had trouble fitting into the passenger seat because his legs were so long. The back seat was down and needed lifting. I was afraid he would make me lift it by myself, but he helped me. Then we drove to the mall.
21 March 2008
I'm standing on a street corner watching Barack enthusiastically help a baby onto a pogo-stick / bicycle hybrid made of flimsy white plastic. The baby and pogocycle topple over onto the pavement. The thuddy sound was not unlike an old mushy piece of fruit landing on the floor. I remember being at once fascinated by the fact no brains spilled anywhere, and horrified at the sight and sound.
I am at a dinner table with twenty-five people I've known in my life, as well as some I've never met. I start choking but everyone is talking and laughing and no one notices me struggling. I try to stand to get their attention when I feel someone grab me and begin the Heimlich, launching the chunk of food into the middle of the table. I turned to see who helped me, and it's Barack Obama! He takes my hands and gives me a big smile and says Thank you! -- like he did at the rally in Seattle in real life.
I say, You're welcome! My gosh, I didn't even know you were going to be here tonight. Then he leaves and I wonder why he thanked me.
I am in an apartment building, the fourth I've moved into this year. Barack is unconscious in its medical care ward, and the only doctor there is absorbed with another patient. I ask if I can help, but he says no. I then follow the doctor to an elevator as he carries Barack out -- to get him better care elsewhere, I assume.
On the way down, the elevator starts shaking wildly. I think it might be an earthquake, given the ferocity. I try to relax my body and ride it out. Then the building crashes to the ground. I am unharmed. The doctor carrying Barack seems fine, and Barack is not harmed further. The doctor hurries off with him and I learn that the building was still under construction from the 6th floor up, and was poorly made, which is why it was collapsing.
20 March 2008
Barack was giving a speech at The Phoenix Zoo, standing inside an exhibit. He had an orangutan on his shoulders and was talking about the importance of conservation. I found myself very impressed with his ideas but a little put off by the fact that he was so rushed that he didn't have time to talk with us after his speech, and was just hustled on to his next engagement by a crowd of handlers.
Barack was the new youth minister at my University. As a gesture of welcome, a group of us invited him out for the night for beers. The evening was a success, and we returned with him to his faculty apartment for some late-night, meaning-of-life conversation. We were getting comfortable when Barack excused himself to go to the restroom and came out lighting his Speed Stick Gel deodorant on fire and huffing the fumes. His adeptness with the deodorant/lighter technique and lack of self- consciousness implied this was simply his standard nightcap.
19 March 2008
I am in the back seat of a car that Barack is driving. Michelle is in the passenger seat. We don't know each other well -- maybe they picked me up hitchhiking. I ask him about his daughters and I talk about the tiny crap-hole apartment I used to live in.
It's the next day, and I'm talking to my coworker about Barack, feeling like I have a crush on him or something. I'm an editor at a magazine, and my boss overhears. He says he wants to use my connection with Barack to ask him to write a story on kids' room storage solutions. I feel that it's not best way to utilize him.
I was going to a retreat center in the mountains to do a mini-workshop with a shaman. I arrived late and walked out of the lodge to find the group. I walked down the path in the snow, and caught the last of the "ritual" with the (Inuit?) shaman sitting by the fire, doing some sort of blessing. Then it was over. Heading back, I found myself walking with Barack. I somehow knew him on a personal level, and we chatted about how the campaign was going, how he was holding up, etc. It felt good to see him, like seeing an old friend. We went into the lodge together, finishing our conversation. Michelle saw us walk in and gave me a dirty look. I remember feeling annoyed because Barack and I were just friends and she knew that.
I dreamed that an old romantic comedy which Obama had starred in in his younger days was dug up and was playing at every theater in the country. The movie was pretty bad but I remember thinking how unfair it was for people not to vote for him just because he wasn't a good actor.
I was on Obama's campaign bus and was sitting right next to him on some sort of a bench. He was wearing a crisp, light blue shirt, which I think contributed to me wanting to snuggle up closer to him. He then hugged me and we held each other for a while like that. The embrace had the warmth of fatherly affection, but I also remember waking up semi-aroused and thinking about his body.
Barack was teaching a middle school class. I was at a desk in the back of the room. Everyone had slightly over-sized bobble heads, including Barack. He was a passionate teacher and had all of us engaged in a lesson. Then he pulled out an electric guitar and started playing and walking around the classroom, singing. When he came near my desk I jokingly yelled, Do your thang Huckabee! Do your thang!
I'm sitting in an ice cream store and Barack and Michelle walk in. My friend leans across the table to let me know that this is Barack's new campaign strategy: no more big rallies, just meeting normal people in normal places. After a few minutes, I leave the shop and run into Barack outside. He tells me to walk and talk with him. He always walks a few steps ahead of me. He asks if I'm a student, and I feel ashamed to say that I graduated several years ago. I tell him I'm a youth minister. Barack laughs derisively and walks away.
My grandmother told me her dream:
I was in the living room of a modest apartment. There was a small dinner party and I was dancing with Obama. I went into the dining room and announced, I forgot to tell you that this is my husband Barack Obama and he is running for president. Then I said, Oh wait, I made a mistake, he's not my husband. Michelle came in and I told that her I was sorry I said Barack was my husband because he is hers. She replied, That's okay. Then everyone but me sat at the dinner table and Barack felt sick from the food and turned different colors. Next scene we are in an auditorium and I'm standing in the back. Barack is walking down the aisle on the left side and he's asking people to vote for him.
Barack made a campaign stop in my hometown. Someone had booked him in a hotel that had a bathroom made entirely of glass, so you could see from the outside what he was doing in there, however it was clouded glass so you couldn't see anything clearly. Someone made a video of him showering and posted it on the internet. Of course, this caused a hailstorm of controversy and everyone demanded that Obama explain why he would book a hotel with a see-through bathroom. He countered by explaining that it really wasn't a big deal because it was clouded glass and you couldn't see everything.
18 March 2008
My wife and I were driving an SUV on riverbed in Alaska. We pulled out of the river into a hotel parking lot. Then I found myself without my wife, in my hotel room, in the bathroom. Barack Obama came in.
I said Mr. Obama, and he looked at me and addressed me by name. I was uncertain what to do, began to stand, then decided against it halfway. I had also reflexively put out my hand to shake his, and Barack did too. We both stopped, with pained expressions, and I said, You don't have to. He quickly shook my hand.
I sat down and told him he should wash his hand but he left the room. Immediately, a Secret Service agent came in and started to check the room for bugs. I asked him to give me a minute but he insisted he had to sweep the room right away. Obama was right outside the door asking me to hurry up because he had to go, but I was so self-conscious with this Secret Service agent there that I could not do my business.
I was in a large house with vaulted ceilings and skylights, sitting opposite Barack at the Fisher Price table my brother and I had when we were kids. Like old friends, Barack and I were catching up on life and chatting about foreign policy and health care. Finally he had to go and asked if he could use our bathroom on the way out. I said sure. A dozen or so of my friends were scurrying around the house, playing tag. Just as Barack reached the bathroom, a friend darted in front of him, went in, and slammed the door. He shrugged like it was no big deal. I apologized.
17 March 2008
I dreamt that I was in a great big field. There was a volcano near me. Barack appeared above the volcano with an elephant on his head. The volcano erupted and Barack flew toward me. The elephant picked me up and put me on his back. The end.
(His father and I are both avid Barack supporters and talk about the race quite a bit at home.)
I dreamed I was at an Obama rally. As he spoke, he began to raise his hands in the air and levitate small objects around him. Everyone was shocked at first, but quickly accepted his abilities as real. He seemed a bit uncomfortable with what had happened, like he didn't mean to do what he did.
I had a vivid Barack dream last night that spoke to me of one of my ongoing internal struggles. I was at a campaign event for Barack, like a community BBQ. We sat at long picnic tables and Barack was on my right. It was like we knew each other and he was checking in to see what I was doing with my life. I said I was a filmmaker and I started going on about the transformative power of art. I mentioned Marcel Duchamp for some reason. Hearing that, Barack shook his head disapprovingly, asking me what it had to do with real folks like the ones at this BBQ. He thought I was wasting my life with all this artsy fartsy stuff and I should be doing something more pragmatic and political, be a lawyer like him, commit myself to service. I felt ashamed. My dream shifted and suddenly I was an indentured servant in some bizarre building complex surrounded by barbed wire. I was trying to escape, but it sort of felt like punishment for my self-indulgent ways.
I was working in a giant field that had been freshly tilled and Barack was showing me how to pick out the rocks from the soil and toss them to the outskirts. As I pitched my first few rocks he was very encouraging, and placed his hand on my shoulder at one point to offer me kudos for my efforts. There was a crowd of dusty onlookers that were watching him instruct me. I remember feeling excited about what we might plant there.
16 March 2008
I was in a conference room at a hotel, standing behind white columns at the back of the room. I'm not sure if there were other people in the room at the time. In slacks and a white oxford with sleeves rolled up, Barack approached me and extended his arms, and we embraced. He said, Thank you for your help, Verna. We hugged and he kissed my cheek. We continued embracing and then suddenly we were kissing for just a few more seconds. We both stepped back and looked at each other in confusion and surprise. I awkwardly stuttered my through an excuse to leave and Barack did the same. In the dream, I somehow knew his wife was approaching and that we needed to part ways before she discovered us. And that was that.
I went to see my therapist at our regular time. When I entered her office, Barack Obama was sitting on the couch, leaning forward, looking like himself on the cover of The Audacity of Hope. My therapist informed me that instead of our regular individual therapy, we would be having group therapy with Barack and one other person, who I didn't recognize. I felt angry that Barack was intruding on our session.
14 March 2008
I had a dream that Barack, my favorite musician, and my first love were the same person. When I woke up I began thinking that these three people have inspired me in a similar ways and intensities but through different mediums (politics, music and love).
I was standing on an enormous stage with Obama, his family, and many other people. The sun was shining radiantly in our eyes; a huge glowing green field stretched out before us. My husband of six months and I stood behind Barack, holding hands, sturdy and joyful. I was overwhelmed with a feeling of certainty that my husband and I will have a good, happy life together.
13 March 2008
I'm watching a movie preview for Horton Hears A Who. They're showing clips of the actors reading their lines, then a clip of the cartoon character finishing the line. The actor playing Horton is Barack Obama! He is saying the line, We must travel secretly...
I dreamed that someone gave me a book by Barack, but instead of The Audacity of Hope it was The Lion King children's book. The strange thing was that instead of Simba's face on the lion it was Barack's. Then when I closed the book I looked up and saw Barack smiling and he asked if I liked it. I said, I loved it. The Lion King is one of my favorite movies.
I was in an empty restaurant, sitting with Barack at a table. I asked Barack about his feelings regarding the constant need for him to publicly reiterate that he is not a Muslim. Barack said nothing, got up and walked away. I tried to follow him, but he was elusive. I grew humiliated and upset.
12 March 2008
Barack and I had been involved in what I thought was a serious romantic relationship. Throughout the evening, I was sending him loving text messages and continually checking my phone, though I never received a response. As the dream progressed it became clear that he was either focused on his campaign or, more likely, had just lost interest in me, which was very upsetting.
I was hanging out with Barack, flirting with him a bit. My boyfriend was with me and started getting annoyed at this. I dismissed my him, saying, Dude...it's Obama! As in, DUH, of course I'm going to flirt with him, nothing wrong with that. Then I got a pang of guilt when I thought about Michelle Obama, thinking that I shouldn't be a homewrecker.
I dreamed Obama was a candidate in the Spanish general elections. It was election day and I went to cast my vote for him. I was looking around for the paper ballot but couldn't find it. I became desperate and went up to the lazy officials, blaming them for just sitting around rather than having the ballots ready. I left the polling station sadly. Walking around the corner, I witnessed Barack cleaning the foggy windows of an expensive home. I tried to run and tell him that I was unable to cast my vote, but I was too sad, my legs were too heavy -- I could not advance. I was moving in the same place. I saw him, in the distance, grow tired. He sat down on an empty wooden stool in a fetal position. He looked beautiful and peaceful, still as a sculpture.
I saw Obama walking down the street in a small village in Thailand. I asked him what he was doing here in Thailand when he should have been campaigning in America. We started talking, and he said he didn't have any place to stay in Thailand. I told him he could stay with me, and he thanked me and we went off to do other things. Then I remembered that I was living with my students and I wasn't in any position to say he could stay with us, especially since it was women-only house. I grew really worried.
The thing is, I actually live in the same neighborhood as Obama and many of my friends have seen him near my home. Why did I displace the meeting to Thailand?
I was taking a trip to Hawaii -- but it was all very rushed and sudden. I could see the plane waiting on the runway and I was in my room thinking I needed something to read for the trip. As I was getting closer to the plane (its colors were brown and red) I saw Barack, who was going there, too. I thought that I should have brought a swimsuit.
11 March 2008
It was Valentine's Day. I was waiting in line at a cheap department store. I was fifth or sith in line, and all of a sudden I saw that Barack was behind me. No one would let him cut in line, so I let him go ahead of me. He was wearing a completely pink suit. He had a dozen roses.
How come you're not dressed up for Valentine's Day? he asked me.
I told him I didn't usually do that, and he replied Oh I see, you like to take it easy. That's cool. He paid for the roses and strolled out.
Barack had come to speak at my summer camp. It was outside at Sunday Service, and we were all sitting on wooden benches looking out over the water. There were only a handful of people in attendance. I'd helped set up the event, so I was sitting close up. After he spoke, I raised my hand to ask a question.
Barack, are you a feminist?
He said he was not. I was very disappointed. This guy next to me wearing gold cuff links starts laughing at my question. Then I stormed out and said that I was voting for Hillary.
10 March 2008
Barack Obama stopped by with Lorna, a woman I used to work with. They were just standing there, he in a white shirt and dark pants, she stark naked with her long red hair covering her shoulders like she was Lady Godiva.
He had brought her to pick up the baby, which was in the other room. He was explaining to me that she would be taking care of it. I was quite surprised because Lorna is an unmarried woman in her late 50’s, has no children, and I couldn’t understand why she would be caring for his – her? – infant.
Then they left, explaining they had to be on their way.
Barack and I were in the back seat of a moving car. He was on top of me. We were making out (clothed). Barack kept whispering in my ear, Tell me what you want me to change...Tell me what you want me to change... Each time I tried to tell him, he'd go, Shhh, not too loud. I think he was trying to protect me. It was pretty hot. Let's just say I was on the fence between before I went to bed that night, and when I woke up, I wasn't.
I was walking against the current through a crowd of people and Barack was walking toward me. He was so magnetic and seemed to be emitting a golden light -- very shiny. I couldn’t look away. He smiled at me, and just as he was next to me I thought, I have to vote for Obama. Once he was gone, however, I snapped back into the "real world" and wondered what had just happened. I felt as though some spell had been cast over me, and I was pretty angry at him.
I'd been invited to ride in the Obama campaign bus. I've done a little freelance journalism in my time, so I was taking notes as if I was interviewing him. The Senator was actually driving the bus. He was wearing his usual dark suit and was chatting very informally with me, was very polite and amiable. The specific quote I remember him saying was this: Mary, you're a very busy person. How do you balance it all? How do you recharge your battery? He asked this in a very respectful-of-the-working class way, and we had a rather mundane but pleasant conversation.
I remember him spinning the big steering wheel, and casting his clear gaze across the horizon as he drove. I woke with the impression that he could win.
I was in a smoky, hazy hotel office/suite with Barack Obama. We had driven back together from a big rally and speech. He walked ahead of me and was dismissive, or maybe just distracted. I wasn't sure whether he'd already won the presidency or was still just a candidate. I was acting as one of his assistants.
I'd been respectfully carrying his coat and now I lay it on the bed. When I tried to engage him in some light banter about how he felt about the rally, he seemed distracted and annoyed. I was struck that in private, behind closed doors, he was a different man: cordial enough, certainly not mean-spirited, but his tone in private was nothing like his public persona.
He reached for a pack of cigarettes, though the room was already smoky enough.
09 March 2008
My dream was set at the Robert F. Kennedy assassination, in that same room. Barack was at the podium. He finished speaking and stepped down from the podium and began his exit, everything as it had been at the RFK assassination – at least as I have seen it portrayed in films. As Barack walked through the narrow path which security had made through the crowd, a man lunged forward and shot and killed him. The moment I woke up, I felt overwhelmed by futility and profound frustration. I felt terrible for the people whose hopes had been shattered, with no recourse.
08 March 2008
I went to Washington to meet Barack. He was running around and I kept having to run to catch up with him. I was going up to people and telling them who he was – that he was running for president, and just all the great things about him.
But I was not doing a good job. I would stutter and lose my train of thought. People weren't listening to me. I was so frustrated! These people were walking right past him and they didn't know that he was the most amazing man in the world!
Barack and I ended up in his small office. It was inside a classroom where advanced math was being taught. We talked for some time and I explained that I am not a good speaker – that I have problems conveying my thoughts accurately. He told me to talk to one of his staff who would help me.
Then I asked Barack why he had allowed me into his office and he said it was because of my “letter.” Apparently I had written him a letter. Well, he had to run off again, this time to the Library to Congress to return a copy of the Constitution that dated back to the 1700s.
I began going up to people in the street, and talking to them, trying to tell them who Barack Obama was, but I was no better than I had been in the beginning.
07 March 2008
I became best friends with Barack Obama. We had a sleepover at his house and played board games all night, like it was middle school again. In the morning, he went to the kitchen to cook up some pancakes. While he was out of the room, I took the opportunity to call my friend on the phone, all excited, saying, You have to come over! I'm at Barack's house and we have pancakes!
She replied, Yeah, whatever, me and Barack are BFF. We’re going to hang out later this afternoon.
06 March 2008
I was in a Barnes & Noble with my boss. Barack stopped in while we were perusing books on the second floor. I guessed he had a speaking engagement nearby. He was standing next to us and all kinds of people were coming up to him and telling him that they supported his policies, telling him their stories, asking him questions. His presence was very calming and he answered everyone's questions thoughtfully.
I woke up understanding why people like him, and thinking to myself that I should try to read more about this election and maybe even vote.
05 March 2008
Keanu Reeves was voted in as the next President of the United States. He was giving his acceptance speech, dressed in jeans and a hoodie. He looked good, but we were all shocked. How did he win? Did we even know he was running? I set about urgently painting him a sign, twelve metres long, with a too-dry paint brush, reminding him of all the things he had to remember: Prioritize education. Provide medicare. Cap corporate profits. The environment! There were two brief interruptions as we fielded interviewed reactions from Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama. They were both equally stumped. They didn't know he was running, but were gracious losers.
04 March 2008
I was back in College. Barack was a professor. It was Thanksgiving weekend, and Barack was organizing an Orphan's Thanksgiving for all of us who had no where else to go. It became a really huge production. People were abandoning their plans with their families in order to go to Barack's house. I was put in charge of writing thank-you notes and baking the pies (I had explained to Barack how my family always made key lime pie for Thanksgiving). Over dinner, Barack described Illyrian architecture. When I woke, I wondered, Is there such a thing as Illyrian architecture?
It was very strange. Usually I just dream about my teeth falling out.
02 March 2008
Barack and I were sitting in my office, and he was consulting with me about corrective eye surgery. He had been referred to my practice for my expertise, and though I was flattered that he had come to me, I referred him to a well-known surgeon for the consult. I asked about his eyeglasses and if I might see them. He said he hated his glasses, but when he showed them to me, they were beautiful retro frames: thick, tortoise-shell, plastic. Yet they were mangled and badly in need of repair. I encouraged him to wear them, and offered to repair them. I began adjusting the frames in my private lab when I promptly broke them. I was horrified.
29 February 2008
I was in front of a building when Barack came out by himself. I went over to introduce myself and shake his hand. He gave me a dead fish handshake and wouldn't look me in the eye when I spoke to him. His secret service people came out right after that and he left. I decided that I didn't like or trust him.
28 February 2008
I was running up a snowy road and Barack Obama was running beside me. A lot of people were running downhill, in the opposite direction, and they had the proper winter running attire on. Not me – I was in my street clothes, and a giant truck kept forcing me into the left side where there were giant puddles and I got my feet wet.
Barack and I came to a street in New York -- 121st and Broadway, next to my old apartment – and went into a large, dark assembly room that had the feeling of a church. I talked to Obama and we realized we both had a Columbia connection. He had been very nice to me on the run, when I felt I had him to myself, but then he became more interested in what was going on in the room and he ignored me. I felt hurt because of this and started to write him off, feeling that he wasn't who he said he was.
He walked away from me, over to some women. I realized that everyone in the room wanted a piece of him. I saw my mother in the rows of seats opposite me and I got up and walked over to her and told her the story of what happened between me and Barack.
I looked over to see that he was now fully engaged in some other conversation, and he seemed intent and interested. I thought, He will shut down after a minute and become inward.
My recurring dream is that I am Michelle Obama. In one dream we had a lot of campaigning to do, but I needed to take the kids to see their grandparents. I told Barack that I could not handle all this pressure from campaigning. He told me we didn't have any events scheduled for that day, but I didn't believe him and I yelled at him because we were in the middle of campaign season, primaries were coming up, how could we not have anything on the schedule that day!?
27 February 2008
Barack and another politican who was a democratic nominee – but I don't think exists, or maybe it was John Edwards – were having a gun fight in my basement. I shot them both and had to figure out what to do with the bodies. I went into a different room of the house and it reminded me of one of the houses I lived in when I was a kid. My parents thought I should put the bodies in trash bags with some other random stuff and try to throw the bags away and pass it off as household garbage. I was like, Shouldn't we tell the police what happened, or something? My mom said, No, let’s not do that.
Later I saw Barack on the news and I felt relief that I hadn’t shot him -- that it was just one of his copies.
Barack was being interviewed on one of those Sunday news shows and the host asked him if English should be the official language of the United States. He said yes, absolutely: It is the national language. How horrible would it be to hear somebody speak a language other than English in our country?
I sat there watching and thinking, This campaign is pretty much over...
26 February 2008
Barack Obama hadn't been seen in a few days, and all the commentators were wondering where he was and why he wasn't out campaigning. Then suddenly he shows up at a Clinton rally, and he's campaigning for her all of a sudden. He gives this great speech about how excited he is to be on Hillary's side. I turn to the people I'm with and ask, Did she brainwash him?
25 February 2008
My girlfriend and I are hanging out with Barack, leaning against the brick wall of a public school, casually talking. There is an attractive young black woman there, too. I lean over to tell her that we are going to dinner if she wants to come with us. I'm not Michelle, she replies.
I was running some errands with Barack. Michelle was in the hospital after having a cyst removed, and one of our errands was to pick her up. Barack was driving an SUV and we were having difficulty finding a parking spot near the hospital. We drove down a narrow street with cars parked on both sides, then it dead-ended. It didn’t look like it was possible to turn around. I became very tense. I thought, Oh, no, he’s going to get very angry and run into all these cars when he tries to turn around. Then the media will find out and he’ll ruin his chances of being nominated. But he very cooly did a 7 or 8 point turn, deftly turning the car around, and we headed back up the street. I thought to myself, Well, I’m voting for him.
24 February 2008
I was watching the Democratic National Convention. Al Gore was giving a very powerful speech. He chose that moment to tell everybody that he'd thought about it and, yes, had had decided what the heck, he would run for president after all. Everybody went nuts. I looked at Barack, who was sitting with the other candidates. Edwards was there, too. They all look startled. I turned to my my wife and said, Wow, Obama looks upset.
22 February 2008
Obama was having a rally in a giant arena. I ended up in a seat right near him at the podium because the regular seats were filled. Obama was standing before the cameras and gesturing with his arms. I could not concentrate on what he was saying because I was awed by his presence. During a break, he came up to me as if I worked for him.
I need you to draft a letter for me, he said.
Sure, I said. Anything I can do...
It's to the board of a local nonprofit, he continued. I was glad. That's the kind of thing I do at my real job. He gave me a brief description about what it should say, then went back to the podium.
I got to work at once. I had a pen but I didn't have a piece of paper. All I could find near me was a hamburger bun. I started to write out the letter on the hamburger bun while Obama gave his speech, but with every few strokes the pen would break through the outer surface of the bread into the soft middle. I was getting nowhere and didn't know what to do.
21 February 2008
20 February 2008
19 February 2008
I dreamed I had to get something signed by Barack Obama. Instead of sleek campaign headquarters, it was him at a messy desk in a dusty, cluttered room, like where a professor would be. Obama told me he was busy and to have a seat.
I sit in front of his desk and pick up a magazine. Obama gets on the phone to someone connected to the campaign. He speaks in a low, quiet voice, but then I start to notice something strange: Obama has an incredibly dirty mouth. He's on the phone, cussing up a storm. The phone seems to rile him and as he gets angrier, his voice gets louder and louder, and his language gets more and more profane and deranged. I try hard to concentrate on my magazine, but the more I try to, the more disturbed I become. He never yells at me, but he is positively out-of-control with rage at this point.
Then Michelle Obama enters the room, also furious. She starts yelling at her husband, and the reason why becomes clear very quickly -- she's brandishing two Playboy magazines, which she apparently found in Barack's desk. Apparently, he promised her he would get rid of them and reneged. Michelle is raging away, but at this point, Obama seems to have calmed down. Instead of answering Michelle, he just sits at his desk and takes it, a big dumb grin playing across his face. The more she threatens him, the bigger the grin and the more smug his body language becomes. More people gather, mostly women. At this point, the entire office seems to be yelling at Obama, while he does nothing. Nobody notices me as I tiptoe out of the room, paperwork still unsigned.
Barack Obama was my teacher. Despite myself, I kept falling asleep in his class. This baffled and irritated me. We sat at a long table. Obama said important things and others were deeply moved by his lessons. I desperately wanted to focus, wanted to submit assignments, to impress him, but I was utterly unable to stay awake.
I was Barack's mistress. He picked me up from a party that I was at with Alton Brown. We went driving around in a small town with lots of fields, then we stopped at an ice cream shop. No one knew who Barack was, so he started filling them in, telling them what he was all about. I asked the driver if I should buy a suit so that people would think I was Barack's assistant, rather than his mistress. We then walked into a bar that seemed to be made almost entirely out of gold and the bartender started yelling at us. I asked her if she wanted to fight, then I woke up.
In my dream, Hillary kissed me a few times on the cheek. She had hot red lipstick on. I saw Bill's pecs. He had a hot bod. For a second I thought I was going to sleep with him, but then I ended up in a car with someone I didn't know and I learned about Obama's secret affair with his black slave servant.
I dreamed last night that Obama was assassinated. I was like No! This is a dream! Can't be true! Then I woke up but I was still in the dream. I went to npr.com and there was a picture of him shot. I thought, Wait a minute, am I still in a dream? People were trying to tell me I wasn't.
What brought all this on? I don’t have a great interest in the
In the dream, Barack's daughters were my age, 17. They invited me to their house. We was talking about boys and we was getting loud. Barack came and told me I couldn't talk with his daughters cause I was getting loud. I was like, That's dumb, we're just having girl talk. The Mrs. cooked food for a whole bunch of people. Then it cut to Barack running up a hill with his supporters. It was just like a commercial.
18 February 2008
I had such a great dream last night. Barack Obama came to my church and gave a speech. I don't remember what he said, just that he was very eloquent. Afterwards he and his wife were standing near the doors, shaking hands. I went up to shake his hand and I was so nervous! He was like 8 feet tall in my dream, but when I reached out to take his hand he gave me the sweetest smile.
I was still a student in some sort of school. For a project, we were paired with celebrities. I don’t remember who else was there except for Penelope Cruz. I got Barack Obama.
I was intrigued by our pairing. I wondered what he would ask me, but he just "mailed in" the interview. He was on his cell phone most of the time. He could have shown a little class. In the end I just told him that I watched Lost and Heroes.
Barack dropped by my apartment unexpectedly while I was having a small party with friends and family. He was not Obama the presidential candidate, but more like Barack the cool celebrity. He arrived in a whirlwind, and before I had time to let it sink in, he was gone. He kept saying I'll be right back, as he left in a hurry with his assistant, a fashionably-dressed young man. I watched out the window as they got into a cream-colored limousine, which was parked right in front of my building. The limo had lights on the outside which made it look like it was glowing and all-the-more glamorous.
After Barack left, more people stopped in because word had spread that Barack was at my place. We waited for him to come back as he had promised. Suddenly (as often happens in my dreams) I realized I didn't have any pants on. My doorbell rang, and I scrambled to get some pants on while thinking, Oh my gosh, it could be Barack at the door. I put on my brown corduroys because that's all I could find. They were way too tight and I could barely walk. I went quickly to the door to find two of my cousins, not Barack. The limousine did come back later, but only his assistant got out. I was disappointed.
Barack and I were having a long conversation at the beginning of the dream, and then it transformed into a sort of Matthew Barney universe where he was wearing cowboy hats and his skin seemed to be getting whiter all the time. I kept chasing him around this weird place but he was always one step ahead of me.