Trigger warning to lefties: I am NOT the president.
This is a recap of the dream I had last night. Keep calm. You can leave your safe space.
In my dream (nightmare?):
I am newly elected as POTUS, though I don’t recall even campaigning, and am sitting around a table at a pub with some friends and shirt-tail relatives. Our server is very attentive; he does not even leave the table, except when called away by management to fix a leaky pipe.
At the table, there is a discussion of what beer I should be seen drinking, as my position as POTUS will no doubt influence sales. A well-meaning person I don’t recognize suggests one type. I want a different type. “But…but…,” he says. I insist.
Then I leave the pub and drive up the street (why, I don’t know) and am thinking: I don’t want this job. I can’t do a damned thing without having to have an advisor clear it. I am thinking that maybe I can just blend into the background because I have a common name, like Andrew Johnson, president number whatever.
Back at the pub I see a relative collecting all the paper coffee cups out of a cabinet, along with the slip-on holders for when they are really hot. I tell him he can’t do that. He says he is part of the system now and that he can. Then another relative wants to remodel the toilets in the White House and put new lids on them. I tell her it has to be paid for and that it cannot cost $900 dollars each, like the Pentagon lids.
Then my dream/ nightmare ended.
I was out of the fishbowl.
I could drink whatever beer I wanted.
As President of the United States, I couldn’t.
That’s true freedom and power.
This post was done entirely free of Russian bot influence.