A DREAM OF OBAMA

A DREAM OF OBAMA (PART I)

I had a dream about Obama. Until very recently, when he won the presidency, we were living as part of an extended family within the same house. Now he’s here again, but not with any sort of presidential pomp. He’s just like a family member visiting. He’s here for dinner, and I’m somehow accountable for having things go smoothly.

He’s wearing short sleeves, and at one point I clutch the smooth brown skin of his elbow, earnestly congratulating him on his amazing accomplishment. But either then, or later, I get a strong feeling that I badly overstepped my bounds.

The scene changes, and I’m vaguely presenting to children, as during my substitute teaching days. The children get too unruly and I shout at them. I do that only due to desperation that I am making a bad impression at a bad time. I’m quite aware in my dream that I have learned the hard way how to control a group of kids if I choose to. (Had I been more interested in the task, I would have been properly prepared and the kids well behaved. The problem was that I didn’t consider teaching kids to be important for me to do. It couldn’t make a difference on the scale, or with the urgency, that I considered worthy of my involvement.)

Obama is not impressed. It seems that he considers teaching any group of kids under any circumstances to be a sacred duty that should take precedence over others. I consider him frighteningly priggish, cold and remote.

Next, the long table is being set for dinner. Michelle is involved with straightening up the mess. At least one chair is missing, making for possible elimination of one of the kids. I ask Michelle why her husband has not taken a seat but appears to be scrutinizing objects on the wall instead. “He’s very sensitive,” she replies. I conclude that he’s not sitting because he wants everybody else to be seated first. Unbeknownst to me, he’s been quietly taking in the mayhem (including the lack of oranges that are required for desert). Again, I’ve let myself down in front of this pillar of virtue.


A DREAM OF OBAMA (PART II)

Aubrey was my brother-in-law, the younger brother of my ex-wife, who was exactly my age. Through ups and downs, recrimination and divorce he remained my steadfast and loyal friend. He was, arguably, the best adult friend I ever had. About seven years ago, he suffered a massive stroke and subsequent complications that ended his life. In life he was thin and reedy, not unlike Obama in complexion and stature, though less tall.

In one scene of my dream, Obama instantly solves a computational problem in his head, the answer he gives being one three-hundredth, which we all take to be gospel. Aubrey, who was a math genius in life, appears in the dream, and I hope he can rescue my tarnished reputation by also solving the problem, showing that my close buddy has equal computational skills to Obama. Aubrey, who had always been light-hearted and good nature, is, however, completely silent. He runs toward a river or pond or lake, smiling like a happy, goofy child.

When I awake, it seems that the one three-hundredth answer was absurd, that Aubrey was perhaps demonstrating the pointlessness of the subject, and that a river and grass, shrubs and trees in the bright sunlight were much better things to focus on than trying to impress people, who didn't know what they were saying anyway.