Some people dream and seek meaning from their dreams. Some people dream then want to forget. Some people may dream, or not, but don’t remember, so what difference does it make? I, Marsha, have always been the latter type of person. Maybe I dream and maybe there is meaning in my dreams, or perhaps things I should want to escape, but since I don’t remember my dreams, who cares?
After two straight days weeding through wet soil and asphalt, I had a dream that I remembered.
In my dream, I was back in Ukraine with a friend I’ll call Larry, who has never to my knowledge been to that country. He was with his wife, Pat, who I know to be a very nice person, but who showed up in my dream with biker tattoos, which aren’t necessarily bad things, and really didn’t have much place in the dream except to be noticeable. It was Larry’s very bright idea in this dream to go to President Obama’s house. He said he knew how to get in.
So, Larry, Pat – biker tattoos quite visible – , several very very young Peace Corps Volunteers and myself set off to visit the Obama’s house. Where was Stanley in all this? Maybe he could have talked some sense into the dream, but maybe that’s why he wasn’t there. I remember feeling very cranky about having to take buses and trains and very long walks to get there. About visiting the Obama house, I was skeptical. I figured this was just a Larry escapade, because everyone should know that no American President would ever need a house in Ukraine. Or be there. In real life, Larry – a very sensible man – would know this.
But there we were, sneaking in to a house seconds before the Obamas arrived home. I tried to explain to Michelle Obama why I would be standing in the middle of her upstairs hallway with 4 or 5 young PC Volunteers, my friend Larry and his wife of the biker tattooed upper arms. Michelle listened politely to my very short explanation (really, what could I have said?) and just shook her head in extreme disappointment, sad instead of angry, like she had expected so much more from me.
Larry and Pat took off on a motorcycle, the young PC volunteers took off to skaliwag, and I took endless buses and a long walk, then woke up.
Certainly dreams can have meaning if you intellectually stretch. But before I read too much into this dream, I’ll stretch over my fence and start weeding my neighbor’s yard just for fun.