| my students are hard at work... |
[Apr. 29th, 2009|10:58 am] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | amused | ] | and i am updating this fucking thing. zing!
i had a dream the other night that the obamas had taken up residence in my childhood home on wagonwheel way (cue dueling banjons). it was a white house, but in this dream, it was THE white house. i remember being vaguely concerned that there would not be enough room for michelle, sasha, and malia and their entourage of secret service. and where was the bowling alley, man? oh wait...
so there was obama, washing his hands at our kitchen sink, and he was giving me a look. not a nice one. i said hello, and he said, "hello, erin," in this really formal voice. i thought, "hmm...someone seems testy today." oddly enough, he was getting along *famously* with my notoriously republican grandma. they were cracking jokes, she was cooking for him, etc. when he finally left the room, she turned to me and said, "you know, erin, barack and michelle have some problems with you." "like what?" i asked. "well, they don't like your politics, for one. also, they don't know why you are bothering to study what you are studying. and furthermore, they hate the way you dress." "what's wrong with the way i dress!?" "they think you wear too many bright colours." she walked out of the room, and obama walked back in and resumed washing his hands. i looked down - i was wearing a black tank top and a black skirt...topped off by my bright-ass lime green sweater. "hey, barack," i said. "you like my sweater?" he turned to me slowly, still washing his hands, looked me up and down and said, sternly, "yes, erin. i think your sweater is nice." once he had left the room, i turned to my mom's sister, who was lying on the couch (keep in mind that she and the particular grandma who was in this dream RARELY hang out), furious. "what's wrong with what i wear? what the fuck is his problem?" "well..." "i mean, michelle wears loads of bright colours!" "yeah, i don't know, erin..." "does he have a problem with nic?" she turned on her side to look at me. "no, erin. nic is the golden child and he totally deserves to be and it's always going to be that way so you should just get over yourself. barack loves him best."
and then i woke up.
whoa.
earlier in the evening, not-in-my-dream, i had talked to my brother. despite the fact that he has been privy to everything that has been going on in my life, he didn't even ask how i was doing. and it hurt. on the one hand, i was overjoyed to the point of bursting to hear about all the exciting things coming up in his life. i am so proud of him, prouder than i can express. on the other hand, i wanted to sock him in the nose.
i guess dreams really are ways to work through things. or get dissed by the prez. whatever. |
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