Campaign Nightmares

Last night I dreamt that I was responsible for the ruin of the Obama campaign.

I was in the sewers, trying to get to work. A slide was suspended from a manhole, and as I tried to climb my way up the slide, the McCain's bouncing blonde two year old was trying to slide down from the street. There was a protocol for passage on these underground slides, and I neglected to follow it. I was hurrying to get to work, and so I didn't use the contraption to make the slide larger. We both passed by just fine, but I worried later that Cindy McCain would find out. And so I called her.

Cindy was effusive, reassuring, and snakelike. After thanking me for my honesty and concern, she said, "Well let me just put John on the phone to say thank you." My heart sank as McCain himself got on, also thanked me for my honesty, and said that this should really be a bipartisan safety issue. He would be sure to bring it up at the next debate.

I'm not sure how I was associated with the Obama campaign in my dream; I may have been a staffer, a family member or a friend. But for some reason Barack was living in my house to prepare for the debates, and I knew I needed to warn him about "Baby Bounce", the label John had given my run-in with their infant in the sewer. But other staffers (my mother, close friends) all warned me not to worry Obama with this small problem. And so suddenly there we were, minutes before the debate, with Barack clueless about this potential land mine.

He was wandering around the house, headset on, going over his notes when I approached him. I said I had something to discuss with him, and he mumbled that he really didn't have time. I followed him into the bathroom, and as he brushed his teeth, I rambled on about Baby Bounce, Cindy, John and the call for bipartisanship. Obama looked at me with a concerned, almost distasteful expression, and as he spit into the sink, I realized I may well have cost him the campaign.