I dreamed last night that President Obama was at our house doing handyman work. He wore the dark suit and tie, looking presidential, but he was building something. He had run out of nails, so I was collecting old ones and cleaning them up for him. He opened a trap door in the yard and scrounged through the shelves down there. He picked up a jar, sniffed it and said, “This is tetraethyl lead, have to get rid of that.” I told him I’d never seen the trap door before, and he said, “Don’t you remember last time I was here?” I said, “Oh, yeah,” but I totally didn’t remember. He went back to work, and I started thinking I should take the opportunity of him being there to ask him some questions. I said, “You probably get this all the time, but when you were a kid did you surf a lot?” He sat down and we talked about the surf scene in Hawaii, and he got pretty serious. We agreed that we both liked body surfing, the purity of it. Then some people came in like they were looking at the house. Obama instinctively got up to greet them, and I tried to act all cool, like it was the most natural thing that I was hanging out with Obama while he worked on my house. He said, “I have something for you,” and we went over to the table where he handed me a small snow globe. He said, “I’m not done with it yet. I’m going to put some sprinkles on top.” I examined it closely and discovered his portrait floating inside. I said, “You know, you are really handsome.” I wanted to tell him how great it was that he was the president, that the whole thing had been wonderful, but when I tried to speak I broke down crying. He put his arm around my shoulder while I blubbered, and I couldn’t even get words out. I said, “How…could…Trump……How…could……he…”

Image: AP photo of presidential candidate Barack Obama body surfing in Hawaii, 2008. “Obama Bodysurfs In Hawaii,” Huffington Post. Found at http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/08/14/obama-bodysurfs-in-hawaii_n_119070.html