Enough opinion about presidential politics. Here's some straight reporting—not from the lamestream media, but from a trustworthy basement blogger. I actually had these two dreams, and I report them exactly as they happened.
1. Golf with President Obama.
A year or two into President Obama's first term, I dreamed I was on the Jackson Park golf course in Hyde Park, where I play often, and where Obama played back when he lived in Chicago. In the dream, I was playing alone, and spotted Obama, also playing alone, on the 15th tee. I walked up to him and casually asked him if he wanted to "join forces." (I remember saying those words.) He agreed, and we played the last four holes together. It was understood that he had been president and that I knew who he was. And it was assumed we would say nothing about anything but golf. "Nice putt." "I think it's about 160 yards back to the flag." "I think it's in the bunker."
I outplayed Obama over those four holes, partly because I'm a better golfer and partly because I was comfortable with him, and so quietly and peacefully happy to be playing with him.
2. Snorkeling, with President-Elect Trump.
Well, I was actually on a boat—was it Trump's yacht?—and Trump was snorkeling. I was standing by the railing and I saw a patch of orange hair going past, in the water below me. Without thinking, I reached over and pushed down on Trump's head—just a little push, not to drown him, but to scare him a little. (A mini water-boarding?)
Then I hustled past a few Secret Service guys, who didn't seem to have noticed what I'd done, and I got the off that boat.
Since when did U.S. presidents become a part of our inner lives? What will we dream about next? Literally, the price of tea in China.