the zombie horde

I had a series of weird dreams this morning in between repeated snooze-button punchings. In the first, I had been obliged to attend a high school reunion and was not happy about being there. In hopes of avoiding being seen and having to fill people in on my current news, I escaped to the library (not my actual high-school library but a dream library). The rows of shelves were very low, about shoulder height, which dismayed me since I couldn't conceal myself without hunching over.

I was still vainly hoping that I was somewhat hidden when I noticed that a group of older people had come in. I'm not sure what they were doing there, but they had some connection with the reunion or with some other event that was going on. I sensed that they were trying to get away from the action and into a quiet spot. However, lined up evenly spaced between the rows of shelves, they just looked alarming. They all had salt-and-pepper hair in exactly the same shade, were all about the same height and weight (short-to-medium height and skinny), and they all moved very slowly and had vacant looks.

I shouted, to no one in particular, "look, it's the zombie horde!" In real life, of course, this would be extremely rude and not funny at all, but in the dream it was absolutely hilarious and I couldn't stop laughing and congratulating myself on my wit. I was also relieved to have had a bit of comedy to take my mind off my undesirable situation.

I don't remember much of the other dream, except that the protagonist was a rather nondescript man in his mid to late 30s. He had somehow gotten himself employed as a telemarketer, calling up a narrowly defined target demographic (doctors or engineers, something like that) to try to interest them in some very specialized consulting service. Of course none of them were interested, which made him hate the job even more. He was sitting at his desk trying to assemble his lunch, which consisted of sliced turkey lunch meat, sliced cheese, and some kind of flat bread*, and having a meltdown. He was yelling at his boss about having to call these people who weren't interested, how that wasn't what he wanted to do, etc. etc. I really felt sorry for him, because I knew that he was highly educated and had gotten himself into this job by mistake and necessity.


*This was undoubtedly thanks to a recent viewing of the remake of The Prisoner, wherein the only food available was "wraps" (I recommend it, by the way--the program, not necessarily the wraps).

the obama family p.r. tour

I dreamed that President Obama had decided to move on from town meetings to garner support and had started a goodwill campaign with his family. He was randomly selecting families to visit with refreshments and little gifts, and we were one of the first selected (I was living with various members of my family in addition to my husband).

We had been told what time they would come by, but I had put off going to the bathroom and preparing myself, and consequently had to duck in right when I heard them arriving. It took me longer than I had expected, and I was moving really slowly, to the point that the Obama daughters started to need to use the bathroom. They started knocking on the door and asking why someone was in there so long, which was quite embarassing.

When I finally came out there was a very impressive spread on the table, consisting mostly of bottles and bottles of various types of wine and champagne, with a card in front of each of them saying what they were. Most of them seemed to come from the same company and were brushed aluminum bottles* with fancy "modern" designs on them. There was also a really pretty green glass champagne bottle with art nouveau white flowers painted on it. I didn't really know what else to say, so I commented on how pretty it was. Obama picked right up like a poised social whiz and made a return comment, leaving me impressed with his social skills and unimpressed with mine. The general effect of the wine exhibit was almost as if they were presenting a brand, and I suspected that the most-represented company had had good lobbyists to get their product in the p.r. roadshow.

I was a little confused about what my role in all this was, and slightly cowed, but blown away by the collective social graces of the Obama family. They were both extremely poised and personable in their chit-chat, Mr. in a more cool, off-hand way and Mrs. in a more warm, motherly way**; and their little girls were boisterous and running around, but not in an obnoxious way. Besides being a little ill at ease, I wasn't sure what to do with my other family members. My dad, who apparently loathed Obama, had hidden himself away somewhere and was refusing to come out until they were gone. And my grandmother, who I have never heard sing in real life, was wandering around singing and ignoring everything else going on around her.

I was relieved when they left, and wondered how long they were going to keep this campaign up, because it seemed like an awful lot of work on top of their regular schedules. I thought vaguely that the idea didn't seem very well thought-out, because it had been hinted that they would be visiting every family (sort of a variation on the Chicken in Every Pot), and I suspected that someone on their team was going to realize that they hadn't calculated how long that would take.


*Yes, wine in aluminum bottles. I'm sure that works well in real life.
**Yes, my dreams hew to sex-role stereotypes. I'd like to think it's just because I've been doing a Mad Men dvd marathon.