Last night I dreamt that I was in President Obama’s inner circle of trusted friends and advisors. Because I am very limited in my knowledge of politics, the dream began as we (the Pres, his other trusted advisors, and I) exited a meeting room after a long and exhausting day of whatever it is they all do talk about.
It was understood, as we parted ways, that next on the agenda was a gala event. This I could put together in a dream far better than the daylong meeting. However, perhaps my mind was tired as it slept because the setting seemed more like a high school gym than a ballroom. But nonetheless, I spent a good deal of time chatting with Ryan O’Neal. Actually, he did all the chatting – about himself – to the point of tedium. I felt frustrated that I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Plus, he mumbled as he nattered on about his movie career, which I knew, even in a dream, was passe.
Ryan did not maintain eye contact,and from the place across the room where his eyes were cast, he saw something, and then, breaking his monologue, he said more clearly and naturally, “Oh, God. It’s my father. We don’t get along.” And as his father took long, eager strides toward his son (who he resembled in the same way that Kirk Douglas and his son Michael share a look), Ryan muttered to me, “We’re in therapy…”, as if this would explain the big bear hug his father gave him. Ryan himself was awkward in the embrace.
And, here the dream ended.
I know that in real life it’s really Ryan O’Neal and his own son who have had a contentious relationship. I found the twist on that theme in my dream interesting as I reviewed it this morning. And I have no idea where Barack was throughout this portion of the dream, though I was aware that I was hobnobbing because of my association with him.
But in the end, as the silk shirted father and son hugged, I had a strong sense that Ryan was missing out on, unable to receive, true love from his father. What this dream means, I don’t know. But I awoke from it in a pensive mood, wondering why it is that we do struggle in our relationships with particular family members, and how sad that is.
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sublime days 
The Pres and me
Last night I dreamt that I was in President Obama’s inner circle of trusted friends and advisors. Because I am very limited in my knowledge of politics, the dream began as we (the Pres, his other trusted advisors, and I) exited a meeting room after a long and exhausting day of whatever it is they all do talk about.
It was understood, as we parted ways, that next on the agenda was a gala event. This I could put together in a dream far better than the daylong meeting. However, perhaps my mind was tired as it slept because the setting seemed more like a high school gym than a ballroom. But nonetheless, I spent a good deal of time chatting with Ryan O’Neal. Actually, he did all the chatting – about himself – to the point of tedium. I felt frustrated that I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Plus, he mumbled as he nattered on about his movie career, which I knew, even in a dream, was passe.
Ryan did not maintain eye contact,and from the place across the room where his eyes were cast, he saw something, and then, breaking his monologue, he said more clearly and naturally, “Oh, God. It’s my father. We don’t get along.” And as his father took long, eager strides toward his son (who he resembled in the same way that Kirk Douglas and his son Michael share a look), Ryan muttered to me, “We’re in therapy…”, as if this would explain the big bear hug his father gave him. Ryan himself was awkward in the embrace.
And, here the dream ended.
I know that in real life it’s really Ryan O’Neal and his own son who have had a contentious relationship. I found the twist on that theme in my dream interesting as I reviewed it this morning. And I have no idea where Barack was throughout this portion of the dream, though I was aware that I was hobnobbing because of my association with him.
But in the end, as the silk shirted father and son hugged, I had a strong sense that Ryan was missing out on, unable to receive, true love from his father. What this dream means, I don’t know. But I awoke from it in a pensive mood, wondering why it is that we do struggle in our relationships with particular family members, and how sad that is.
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