My Dream…

I tell you—we are in the Fido Days of Summer. And in the late afternoon, I frequently require a nap in The Chamber. See, in my house, two rooms are AC—my office and my bedroom. So when I take a nap, I go to The Chamber.

Today I woke up after a surprisingly long (hour and a half) and deep sleep, and I remembered this dream:

I was at some sort of outdoor banquent, on a pretty day. I was clustered with others, around the fringes of a long dining table, with silverware and china, and we hadn’t sat down yet. We were waiting for Ronald Reagan to arrive. When a golf cart pulled up—or maybe it was an army jeep—Ronald Reagan got out and he was youthful and lucid, kind of like a 1980 Reagan. He waved one of those “I’m running for president” high-up waves, and I made a break for him, with my camera in hand. All around, people—including me—were exclaiming in surprise: “Oh, he looks great!” Everybody was surprised that Reagan wasn’t completely senile from Alzheimers. As I approached him, he was looking right at me and held out his decent little point-and-shoot camera, wanting me to hold it while he examined my new camera. He didn’t even ask to see it, but I could tell he was delighted with it, so I handed it right to him. He admired it and then handed it back to me and got back into the jeep, and was driven off. Then I realized I still had his camera. I reported this to some nearby military types and a jeep was sent over to pick me up so I could return Reagan’s camera. The MP driver was kind of bitter. He drove us out of this valley up this impossibly steep hill. I was kind of concerned, because it was a manual transmission and this hill was really steep. He was cursing under his breath, saying things like “this is what I gotta deal with…” Meaning: assorted errands and grunt work.

I woke up before I could find Reagan and give him his camera back.

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