A newsflash on CNN reported that Barack had chosen his running mate: Mary Amondieu, an obscure female governor from somewhere in the heartland (Nebraska?) I had never heard of. My immediate thought: why someone with a name as difficult to pronounce as yours? And French in origin, no less! The GOP is going to skewer you on this one. I flipped to Fox News and sure enough, a banner was already flashing, “Yes oui can.”
From a 29-year old male who supported Clinton in the primaries.

I was at an Obama rally. Somehow I ended up around Obama and we started talking. I was struck by his height and his overpowering aura. He towered over me and joyously gazed into my face. I felt like I was in the presence of some sort of spiritual energy. I couldn’t help but be taken by him. I smiled at him but I couldn’t resist to voice my criticism of his political stance. I started telling him how I was uncomfortable by his centrist if not conservative political agenda. He …

I was in some nameless place and we somehow summoned Barack Obama.  I chatted with him for a while, and when I was done talking to him I said, “Wow, I had been a little more iffy about you lately, but now I remember why I liked you so much.”  He said, “Good, just remember to vote for me in November.”  I suddenly remembered his questionable vote on FISA [the Foreign Intelligence Surveillance Act] and said, “WAIT A MINUTE!  What about FISA?  I need to call my boyfriend, you need …

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 …

I dreamed that Obama had just won the nomination. There was still a primary
going on but it was only between Obama and McCain. Each delegate was
represented by a feather. I asked my mom who was probably going to win the
presidential election. She said it was definitely Obama. I looked in Obama’s
pile. He had about 20 feathers. I took a feather and sneakily put it in his
pile. Then I woke up.
From an eight-year old boy, reported to his mother in the summer of 2008.

The dream somehow involved being in the same place as Obama, sitting down on a couch next to each other. He then proceeded to fall asleep, clearly exhausted, and he leaned against me. I remember feeling an overwhelming sense of the weight on his shoulders, and how hard this campaign and the upcoming presidency must be. I sat there, supporting him, feeling proud to be able to do so, and honored that he felt safe enough to relax. I felt like I was part of the people, taking care of him, …

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 …

I am in a gathering space, like a community hall, with a number of people.  I am thinking about leaving and going home but realize I have to go out across a rough section of neighborhood at night that feels risky, dangerous. I look around for someone who might accompany me at least part way for safety. Scene shifts or my attention is drawn back into the hall/event space. I am holding hands with Obama who is on my right side and with another man who is famous- maybe a …

I go somewhere with Barack Obama. When we return, it turns out it is only Obama and myself in the van. He is driving and I sit in the far back of the van. I realize that I have a chance to have a conversation with the President of the United States! I move up into the front seat. I ask him if we can talk- he tells me that is fine as long as I don’t mind listening to Cheryl Crow. We talk for a while. He makes a …

I am attending the Inauguration of Barack Obama, but I am in a room reserved for children–babysitting. I see children all around, playing quietly. I am not really engaged with the children; I am watching them play. In walks Obama. Everyone is surprised. He is wearing blue jeans and looks very handsome. He walks around, touching the children, talking to people casually, smiling, relaxed, happy. He has an aura about him, but is also very regular. The other workers scatter frantically. They change into glittery gowns to reflect the new …