Dreams of Obama

With the country in a headlong freefall to economic hell in a borrowed handbasket, the continued Obama obsession of some in the media is just a little too scary to be as funny as it should be.  There are actually people printing their intimate fantasies of Dumbo Ears and his lovely wife, the First Lady of GLOW (okay, that was uncalled for, but, hey, it’s the weekend).  This is just wrong on so many levels.  People really have dreams of him?  And her?  Together or separately, that’s just…fully freakin’ creepy-assed bizarre.  The fact that anybody would share such thoughts, dreams and fantasies in any forum, even a solitary, anonymous one like cyberspace, is just…unbelievably…spooky.  And really, really hard to fathom.  Anyway, the New York Times‘ Judith Warner unnecessarily shared her Freudian field day of a dream of having a visiting Barack Obama smoking a cigarette in her shower, preventing her from shaving her legs, while her husband yelled at him for smoking in the house.  The mental picture she conjures boggles the rational mind, but, her readers, asked to share their fantasies, manage to kick the “ewwwwowwww” factor up to 11:30.

Many women — not too surprisingly — were dreaming about sex with the president. In these dreams, the women replaced Michelle with greater or lesser guilt or, in the case of a 62-year-old woman in North Florida, whose dream was reported to me by her daughter, found a fully above-board solution: “Michelle had divorced Barack because he had become ‘too much of a star.’ He then married my mother, who was oh so proud to be the first lady,” the daughter wrote me.

There was some daydreaming too, much of it a collective fantasy about the still-hot Obama marriage. “Barack and Michelle Obama look like they have sex. They look like they like having sex,” a Los Angeles woman wrote to me, summing up the comments of many. “Often. With each other. These days when the sexless marriage is such a big celebrity in America (and when first couples are icons of rigid propriety), that’s one interesting mental drama.”

Barf me the fuck out!  Gag me with a spoon ladle.  Yuck, tooey, foo!  Talk about weirdObots!  Oh, man, I soooo don’t need this, so I thought I’d share.  Not every entry invoked images of wrinkly seniors cavorting with a stick figure, or slobbering soccer moms diddling in the Lincoln bedroom closet as they watched the First Couple of Color canoodling; one wanted to make Barack “the perfect sandwich, (arugula on waffles, maybe?) or sharing a tuna fish sandwich with Michelle (oh, really?) while the kids had a playdate in the basement.  That last one’s waaaaay to Freudian for a layperson like me.

One woman wrote that when she couldn’t get to sleep at night, she “lay in bed and thought about the Obama girls in their rooms at the White House. I thought about Marian Robinson up on the third floor. And about Barack and Michelle, a couple who clearly have a ‘thing’ for each other, spooning together in bed. It helped me relax.”

Are you frightened yet, boys and girls?  I know I am.  There Are No Words:

Another Washington woman, a global health care consultant, expressed her sense of Obama-inadequacy in a dream: “I dreamed I was an Obama girl. I had a chance to be in the same room with him for the first time. There were dark velvet chairs and he was standing there with all this dark and mist around him. His lips so purple and sensuous as if to be otherworldly,” she wrote to me. “I moved gently toward him and then I said the wrong thing. Obama tamped it down like some vapor that didn’t register. He wasn’t even flattered.”

Okay, you get the idea.  The rest of the column as well as some of the reader comments continue in this warped vein, but thankfully, there are enough, “you people are sick,” “get a life” type responses to not only give one hope, but provide a really good belly laugh.  But, seriously, the whole thing is just plain creepy weird.