Last night, I had a dream I met George W. Bush. It was at a high school basketball game or something, and he was sitting next to another older man that I knew (can’t remember who it was). I went up to him awkwardly because I had a huge rolled-up floor rug in my arms. So I’m balancing the floor rug between my left arm and my chin, and I shake the President’s hand with my right. He shakes my hand and says something like, “Nice to meet you.” And I nod and say, “Beth Richards.” He smiles his sideways smile and repeats my name.
I ask him if he knows my friend’s dad (because I had seen a picture of him with her mom and dad at their house in real life) and he said, “No, I don’t think I know him.”
I was wishing he would just humor me and say he did know them. I said smiling, “Well, maybe the picture was a cardboard cut-out of you!”
He laughed. Then he gets up and takes the rug from me and carries it out the door for me without even asking if I needed help. I was grateful. That rug was heavy.
This is my first dream ever about the President. Perhaps the product of the wonders of Tylenol PM mixed with a little Malarone.
I also had a dream later on last night I petted a cheetah, but that was a real life experience, because the Kenya teamsters petted a cheetah in Africa.
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