Never in a million years would I expect to have a dream in which I pal around with Barack Obama. But I did. It was one of those other dimensional experiences which seemed real and natural, even though the rules of the place are a bit different than the normal awake condition that most people enjoy.
(he wasn't wearing a suit on our adventure. khaki shirt. hey I was there. It happened)
So, we're at an unknown event in the evening. It was a bit like the Cooper-Young street festival in Memphis. As a matter of fact my impression was that we were in Memphis.
It is unclear how I got tangled up in this, but at some point Barack said something, "Hey, can you come with me?" OK, guess so.
Without any real effort, the secret service and all that was ditched. He acted like he wanted to cruise the crowd without notice. He seemed a little confused. It was the stuttering Barack, sort of.
Even though he said he wanted to blend in he kept posing doing that head back, raised chin thing he does. At one point a woman catches our attention saying, "Hey, don't I know you from somewhere?".
It was great, because Barack did that pose thing and began mumbling, "Well, as a matter of fact...". She cut him off, looking at me she said, "No, I me you." Speaking to me. His dejection was obvious.
I just told her, "I hope so!", and we went on making our way through the crowds and booths and such. He was dead set on making it to a place he knew that sold loaves of cheese bread. Don't ask me, I didn't really get it then and I don't get it now.
The Pres wanted that cheese bread in the worst way. We were getting along well, so I was glad to accompany him on this mission. It must have been at that point that I said, "Mr. President, you know I don't agree with much of your agenda, if any." I did use the formal title there. "You really ought to quit all the racial divide. You know it is BS and causing harm, don't you?"
He shrugged in a gesture of "yea, what can you do?", as if it was just his job. Like saying you don't like shoveling horse manure, but that's just the way it goes when you are in the working with horses business. Oddly, I felt no resentment from him regarding my views. I think he envied me for having views, but really hoped I'd shut up about it.
He seemed uninterested, and unsure if he liked his job. He gave off a vibe like the job was an unpleasant chore---can't blame him for that.
My impression was that he really had no personal passion regarding political philosophy. Just did whatever it took to satisfy whatever powers, and to keep the job. He said he wanted to escape all that for now. He was on a quest for a loaf of cheese bread.
So we made our way into the somewhat crowded cheese bread pavilion. I think he knew the lady running the place but she didn't make a big deal or start in with a bunch of "Oh, Mr President!" fawning.
He said to me, "Get whatever you want. I'm president so I can handle it. But don't get more than ten dollar's worth." Okey dokey. I told him I wanted nothing but he insisted.
He got his loaf of cheese bread and headed out the side door while I was getting my cup of coffee, and a loaf of cheese bread. That is all they sold, cheese bread by the loaf and drinks. I took one piece of bread from the loaf and gave the rest to a homeless looking character.
When I went out the side door, it was dark and looked like an alley. Barack had chosen a path off the main thoroughfare where the crowds milled about.
There were three guys harassing him for money. Black guy, black hispanic, and a guy of unknown species. The black guy was the leader and he pulled a gun and had it pointed at Obama' chest. (am I a filthy racist because there was a villain or two of color in my dream? Most of my dream villains are colorless)
So, Barack's mumbling and clearly surprised, "Uh, guys, you know I'm president, right?" And the gun guy answers with something like "F you, and I'm John Lennon. You gonna be a dead mother f'ing president!"
They had no clue who he was.
It all happened real quick--the talking. When I saw the gun pointed at him, and sensed the situation was escalating, all I could think was "nobody is going to shoot the President with me around". I dove between them, hoping to push the gun arm so he couldn't shoot Barack and maybe not shoot me.
I said, "Oh, Hell No!" and dove. Don't know if I had to take a bullet or not. The dream ended in mid air, just as I reached them, with my flying body arriving between the two.
It felt like I knew him and although I don't like anything I can think of that he's pushed, I had no qualms about trying to protect the guy. More because he's president than not. I'd have been less reckless with my own survival had he not been the president. I was pissed off at the punks. The gunman's sidekicks were just hanging back being goofy thugs.
What it means, I do not know. I guess it means don't be playing gangsta. Just let the guy have his loaf of cheese bread, or I'll attack.
After that dream, I feel like I'm an old acquaintance of the POTUS. He's an odd duck but not intentionally evil, or good. Kind of a neutral sort, just going through the motions because he has no choice. That was my impression, and we're old cheese-bread-loaf-quest buddies, so my insight must be valid.
It is strange to have such a vivid dream, and remember it all. I rarely experience that these days. And, though I have a history of rescue dreams, they usually involve a lady love or someone that means more to me than my pal Barack. I guess now that we're buds, I am not so indifferent toward him, though he'll never get my vote.
