I awoke this morning from a dream in which I was attending to a big-league event in Washington DC. I was at a loss as to why I had been invited, but I remained enchanted that I was asked to attend. They were all there: Rick Santorum, The Clintons, Michelle Bachmann, Streisand, Ann Romney & The Pope. In the mammoth hall, we were all seated in recliners. My chair would not situate itself into any position other than fully reclined & I need to use the force of my legs to keep the chair upright.
The elegant woman next to me leaned in & whispered: “I am from Portland too. You don’t seem to remember that we have met & I had mentioned that we had both been invited.” To avoid embarrassment I answered that I remembered her.
I then lost strength & my chair popped in to the fully prone position. I stopped trying to remain upright. The lady from Portland opened her chair to full recline & all around me the 1000 other guests each did the same.
A secret service agent, cast by my subconscious in full cliché trappings- dark suite & sunglasses, tapped me to follow him. We made our way through the sea of recliners to the front of the stage. The entire place went suddenly savagely silent as I was escorted across the front of the stage where Michele Obama had just reached the podium to thunderous applause.
I was taken into the wings stage right where a dozen identical Secret Service Agents roughly hooked me into a flying harness. I was lifted by the device high above the stage where the First Family was gathered before a microphone.
I flew over the heads of the attendees as they booed & hissed, some in tears, most enraged.
Then I awoke. I was sweating.