I couldn’t believe it when I awoke this morning, that I’d dreamed about Obama! Since I seldom remember my dreams, this was a shock, but the significance of the dream, which at first seemed silly, began to dawn on me as dawn lightened the sky.
First of all, he was riding what appeared to be motorized bicycle (not a motorbike) yet was pedaling along on it. Various contraptions extended which reminds me of the tinker toy gun my granddaughter had fashioned during the day.
I was at a fair, inside a tent I believe, looking at my sister’s display which included two quilts she’d made, when Obama suddenly drove up on his bicycle and stopped to look. “My sister in Kentucky made these” I said proudly. He didn’t seem to know where Kentucky was.
“Appalachia,” I said. “Surely, you’ve heard of the Appalachian Mountains.” There was no sign of recognition from him. “You really should get to know the country,” I said. It was as though he were a stranger here who knew nothing about America.
In the culture I grew up in, in Appalachia, we look for meaning in our dreams, believing they either instruct us or reveal truths that are hard to see when we’re awake. I’m still pondering the dream’s meaning, however, and whether it was triggered by the tinker toy gun my granddaughter had made.
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