What I Dream About

I have had a series of really unfortunate dreams lately. Not the kind that leave me shaken or unnerved throughout the day, but the kind that make me wonder what in the hell my subconscious is worried about.

For example, after watching pieces of the presidential debate on Tuesday, I woke the next morning with the distinct feeling that I had really made Obama mad while I mediated an economic agreement between McCain and Bernacke. Now bear in mind, I don't really fully understand the ramifications of economic policy on strongholding, but in my mind I was opinionated enough to alienate a candidate. Never fear though, I spent the remainder of my sleeping hours trying to make it up to Barack by telling him about the screenplay I had written.

Worse that this, though, is the dream I had last night in which I spent a full night and day running around Manhattan trying to find Sara so that I could give her a road bike to take on her honeymoon. Because, you know, she had found someone she wanted to marry and was going to elope without actually telling me about it. Now Sara, don't get mad - I just really wanted you to know that I would bring you a bike before your wedding.

So here's the problem with these stupid little dreams that I remember so vividly every morning: I have a hard time determining what has actually happened in the real-person world and what I have only summoned in my head. Post-debate, I spent the day on edge with the feeling that I was going to have to explain my ill-conceived stimulus package to the American public because the current leaders of the country had been hurt by my non-partisan leanings. Similarly, I woke this morning wondering if I had missed what was sure to have been a good wedding and if I had hurt Sara's feelings by not providing a bike (it could have been new, borrowed, and blue!) on a really important day.

In short, I have no grasp on reality. But I might be able to write a screenplay.