A car pulls up and in the back seat is Barack Obama. He wants me to get into the back seat with him and I can feel this warmth and affection between us, like he's an old friend. We have some sort of connection and he trusts me and I trust him. As I bend over to look in the window, I'm caught off guard by my reflection. I look like me only the genetically modified version of me: My hair is blond, my eyes are a sparkling light green, my smile is broad and super white, and I'm really, really pretty. I'm glowing.
I get into the car and I see that Obama has a bit of lipstick on his lips and eyeshadow and the driver, who's on the right side of the vehicle, not the left, is also a black man and he has plenty of red lipstick on and teal-coloured eyeshadow. I raise my eyebrows, contemplate this, but I don't say anything. I don't really care what's going on and as we're driving through the town I can feel within me an understanding, as if he's talking to me telepathically, that he asked for me to accompany him because he knows I'm not going to judge him or care if he's really gay and hiding it. I wonder if Michelle knows but then the knowledge comes to me that she does and I shrug and don't care. I'm just blissfully happy and in the moment and pleased to be his company. I don't want to ask any questions because I don't want the answers. All I know is that he's dear to me.
He asks where I want to go, if I want to go to Edmonton to meet his father (or was it a friend? an adviser?). I've already met him and he adamantly doesn't like me but in that way where I think he actually gets quite a kick out of me, and I say sure. I'm at peace with the world, I'm in the moment.
As we drive I note details around the town. The town is Peace River, where I used to live, except it looks much more eccentric. I note through the back window some totem poles that serve as corners to a building. I note some burning potato bags at the top of a large, travelling kiosk. As we keep going I note some large framework structures, that were going to be buildings, knocked over and left on the ground, with some of their foundation attached. I explain to Obama that these were going to be apartment buildings but I guess the owners ran out of money and they're being ditched. I do see a large hole dug for another apartment building that will be going in. It's going to be a low income home/counselling facility. I'm happy to know it will still be going up but it occurs to me how far it is from the town centre and grocery stores and there's no bus in the town, so I silently worry about how easy it will be for people to get their groceries, and I remember being single and having to walk a long way carrying my grocery bags.
As we're driving, Barack Obama turns into Michelle Obama except that she has lighter skin and age spots like Barack. She is president of Canada and I am vice-president. Which is weird because we have "Prime Ministers" in Canada. Ya, that's the only thing weird about that. So, I'm sitting beside Michelle and I'm so happy and I marvel at the power positions we've just been given and think, "We're really going to change things." I also marvel that I am vice-president because I feel so normal. I think of how I'd expect a vice-president to be and seem: older, more political, more dishonest, more scheming, less genuine. But here I am sweet and sincere with no personal agenda, just a desire to serve and I have a vague feeling that people are going to attack me but mostly I feel like everything will be fine and through my ability to communicate and my lack of fear at being honest they will trust me.
So, it's just Michelle and I and the driver, and she wants to ask me about my depression and how long I've had it and how it's affected my marriage. And since it's really just us in the vehicle I don't mind telling her whatever she wants to know. I start to tell her that I was depressed as a child and that I think when you're developing and you're sad and lonely and afraid a lot, it messes with the wiring of your brain and it's harder for you to have normal emotions later in life. That's just my theory. And I start to tell her about how our marriage used to be worse but it's so lovely now, almost perfect.
Then there are people in the seat ahead of us, one guy and two young women, younger than me. We're no longer alone. I am confused but I shrug it off. The one woman is lamenting that we're on our way somewhere and she looks awful. I lean over and take a look at her. She looks a bit disheveled and natural-looking but I tell her she looks cute and I mean it.
I sit back down and to my left comes some guy in a suit, in his 30's. I've never seen him before. He's cute enough. I ask him his name. He says, "Gabe Ba...on". I repeat it. He tells me again. I tell him that I can't make out what he's saying, that it sounds like, "Gabe Ba...on", some mumbly gibberish. He smiles, grabs my face and kisses me, closed lipped, on the mouth while laughingly saying, "You are SO very adorable." Then he says, "GABE," then kisses me, then "BARTON", and kisses me again, like you would kiss some stranger after finding out the war in your country is over. I'm flustered, blushing. I'm the vice-president! How dare he say I'm adorable and kiss me?! I'm married! And yet, I'm also flattered. But what kind of person kisses a total stranger like that? I'm also bummed out that it's no longer just Michelle and I. Now we can't really talk.
Then Jude woke me up to tell me it was time to get ready for church and that he brought me French toast, which I ate in bed.
I can't believe I remembered the dream in all that detail without writing it down right away!
