Barack was sitting at a table with Michelle standing beside him. There were others around, aides and such, and he was already sworn in as President. Somebody introduced us, and instead of shaking his hand, I hugged him. Then I stood back and hugged him again. I don’t think I spoke, but he laughed and took my crazy adoration in stride. Then he made me the girls’ and the dream skipped ahead to me standing by a black suburban, picking up Sasha and Malia from school. I even put them …

I dreamed that President Obama and the First Lady were doing a TV interview. They were older, both had more grey hair and both had put on weight. Michelle was not as glamorous as we’re used to seeing her–she was wearing her hair kind of puffy–straight back, exposing a lot of curly grey edges. As the interview progressed, Barack’s breathing was a little uneven. He apologized and said that he had just come back from playing basketball. But then he began to hyperventilate really badly. The scene became tense. Michelle …

It’s the day after the Inauguration, only instead of attending more balls or parties, the entire world is bursting with anticipation over the first White House wedding. Barack and Michelle will be getting married today. Twin Oprahs are the bridesmaids. Apparently they’ve been so busy these last few years that they haven’t had a chance to get married yet. They still have their two daughters, and were always planning to get married once they finished the campaign trail. Now that he’s President they finally get the chance. The wedding is …

I was walking down the street and heard someone yell “Sasha!”; then two little girls ran past me. I turned around and there was Michelle Obama…I asked if I could have my picture taken with her; by then a crowd of paparazzi had gathered and they went into a Dominican restaurant in my neighborhood in NYC, where I ‘remembered’ Obama had campaigned (as if!). Somehow I managed to squeeze in through a crack in the glass window, and there was a big bed where I snuggled up next to Michelle …

In the dream I lived in the basement of the White House and was the Santerian advisor. I was middle-aged, African American, wore a long white dress with a flannel plaid shirt of mostly blacks and greys turned into a jacket and a red tatted lace shawl and a dark grey scarf over my hair. I had a hearth with a fire going all the time and a big vase of summer flowers at my table. Otherwise I kept things pretty spare in case they had to sneak me out …

My dad and I happen upon a church where Barack is speaking. Entering, I feel a strong sense of being different from the mostly black congregation. Barack stands at the pulpit, but he is old and pale with a receding, red afro. I am surprised that he is so much less attractive than in my mind. I know the religious right in the congregation are plotting his downfall. Then something odd falls from his person. It is a round object that resembles a child’s rubbery, flashing Spike Ball. I know …