I knew Hillary when...

In the dream the house is in South Dakota, although in real life, it is in Nebraska, 30 miles from where I grew up. I am not particularly close with the family who owns the house, but nonetheless, it is their rural house I dream of. The dream takes place in the kitchen.

The room is dimly lit, sun washes in through a wooden framed window, warming the pale yellow walls and bringing in the open South Dakota plains. A mother, with brown hair, is puttering around, doing dishes, putting them away, staying busy. A blonde woman sits at the bar-style kitchen divider, her back turned toward me as I walk in, hunched over papers and newspapers and folders spread out over the bar/counter.

I talk to the mom for a while, in real life her name is Glenda, but in the dream I don't address her by anything or even know that she is my friend Chrissy's mom. Finally, I sit, facing the blonde and talking about last night's election poll results before I even ask or check to see who she is.

"Did you see how badly Obama stomped Hillary? I knew he would! People love him, and I think that Hillary is washed up, especially here in the Midwest. She should get out while she still can," I say, settling into my own seat. When she looks up and I see the drawn, pinched face of a woman campaigning for more than the presidency, I realize that Hillary Clinton is at the simple, solid farmhouse in South Dakota/ Nebraska. What the hell is she doing here? I feel like an ass. What's going on? Hillary?! She knows my friends? I thought they were Republicans...

The room is quiet, until she smiles, gives a solid, standard little shake of the head for composure and looks at me, head supported on bent wrist.

"Yes, well," she manages to say, before giving a polite "oo, bet you feel like and ass" laugh. Before anything else can be said, Bill walks in (yes, Clinton), drying his hands on a blue washcloth.

"Hey ladies, what's going on in here?" He asks, jovial and relaxed. Hillary looks at him, a withered and small glance, tired. He feels the tension of what just happened, even if he can't pick up on it in words. "Uh, I'm going back outside." Outside, where Bob (my friend's dad) is, is safer than the sad and somewhat silent female congregation of inside, where we are.


The dream ends here, and as the scene fades away, I'm left alone in the room wanting so badly to call the media contacts I have and tell them where the Clintons are hiding out. In the dream, which happened last Sunday, I know that rough days are ahead for the Clintons, becuase they have been hiding out, escaping the media and the public's scrutiny. That would never happen in real life, mind you, but it did in the dream. I want to call the NYTimes, the Washington Post, anyone, I want to tell the media where these people are hiding out. Yet I don't want to rat out my family friends and draw down the Media Big-Top upon their lives. It doesn't seem fair. Now that both NE and SD have claimed Obama for their own (go teams!!) in real life, I guess it was a bit of foreshadowing, to know they would, in the dream. But bigger than that, I see it as me still wanting very much to be part of the media circus I once aspired to. Last election cycle I LIVED in Washington, D.C. and planned on a career in the media circus. Now, I'm happy to be in Chicago instead, but am still yearning for that place among the bylines and big names of the profession.

Guess Hillary and I aren't so different after all....