I Had a Dream. . . About Obama and Perot

And when morning came I awoke, and lo, an angel of the Lord appeared and said unto me. . .

Okay. Kidding. I did have some dream involving Obama the other night, but since I don’t keep one of those dream journals by the bed, the better to jot down pre-dawn epiphanies, and because I quickly got involved that morning with several mind-filling activities, I cannot for the life of me dredge up any details of the Obama Dream.

 I am left only with the lingering realization that, sometime during the night, I was visited by the spirit of Obama, no doubt bringing Hope and Change to my slumbering mind, and perhaps some glimpse of the world to come after the November election, but, alas, I remember no more.

However, the Vague Dream of Obama did make me remember a real dream I did have about another Insurgent Bringer of Hope, Ross Perot, who while he could not be more different from Obama did in fact bring Hope and the Promise of Change in the spring and summer of 1992.

Perot was much on my mind that spring. Because he was from Dallas, the world press descended on the city when his campaign caught fire. I was involved in writing several big magazine pieces and eventually co-authoring an insta-book on Perot, which to my shock actually climbed to #6 on the New York Times Paperback Best-Seller List. I helped several journalists from England and other lands to understand something about Texas and Dallas and Perot (stories on that some other time).

Anyway, in that Perot-drenched time, before the world saw him  to be the cranky power freak we locals knew him to be, and before he got out of the race on the eve of the Democratic Convention and got back in and still somehow racked up 18 percent or so, I had this dream about Perot.

 I had been covering him and interviewing him, but was never sure I’d actually vote for him. So in the dream Perot came to me as I was standing on the edge of a cliff. He looked at me and said, “Well, now, you gonna jump or not?” And I told him I was unsure and afraid. It was a long way to the bottom. So to my surprise Perot produced a rope and tied it around my leg, and tied the other end to his leg.

Then he said again, in that oh-so-imitable voice, “Okay. I gotcha. Everything’s taken care of. Now you gonna jump?”

And so I started to jump, knowing I was tied to Perot, but as I neared the edge I realized that Perot was not tied to anything, and that he could not keep me from falling.

Then I woke up. I still remember that dream all these years later, and I still wonder just what it meant.


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