The President woke in the White House from a dream that the leaves of one of the large trees in the lawn fell off in the night. In the dream, the branches became bare, began to appear sickly. He woke from that dream into another. In the dream into which he woke, the President’s bed was full of leaves. This was just before he woke in reality.
The truth of the matter was, the President hated living in the White House. He never slept well here. It made him feel too upper middle class. He much preferred his Manhattan penthouse or his resort in Mar-a-lago. Those places were sheik. Stainless steel appliances, the help kept the cupboards stocked with chips. Any brand or flavor you could think of. Even though he preferred plain chips, the President does (the first lady doesn’t eat chips), still they kept multiple flavors on hand. Sheik stuff, surely. Because choices were important. It’s better to be able choose what you want than to have to want what you choose. That was not sheik, that was some third world country shit right there. Not that the White House was third world, but still. It wasn’t his penthouse. Or his resort. It was second world, maybe.
Second world, he said out loud. Ha! That would make a good tweet.
Normally, the President forgot his dreams before he remembered them, but today he remembered the bare tree from his dreams as he was walking to the office.
In his morning meeting with his Chief of Staff, he sat back in his great leather chair. Hey, he said, interrupting the Chief of Staff, let me tell you about something. And he told his Chief of Staff about the dream.
Pretty ominous, the Chief of Staff said.
Ominous, the President repeated.
He didn’t know why this guy had to use million dollar words like that. Words he couldn’t afford. The President could afford them, million dollar words that is, but he didn’t. Why not just use the regular ones that meant the same thing? Those words were better, those words were a good deal.
It sure seems like we are headed for a recession, the Chief of Staff said. The bubble is bound to burst.
I guess, the President said, changed the subject.
All that guy thought about was the budget. Balance this, balance that, the President wished he would just shut up. The President’s budget was the most balanced. Didn’t that guy realize the President was rich?
After the meeting with his Chief of Staff, he met with the Press Secretary. He told the dream to her because at least he could trust her not use big words.
Weird, she said.
Yeah, he said, and he told her what the Chief of Staff said about the dream meaning bad things for the economy.
Maybe, she said. But you’ll still be rich.
Hmm, the President said.
He didn’t feel the need to say anymore. He was pleased. This was a good meeting. It was not like the meeting with the Chief of Staff. That guy was never a good meeting. A Debbie Downer, that guy. Negative. Very negative.
It just might be time for him to go, he said out loud.
What’s that? The press secretary said.
Oh, nothing, he said. Just thinking out loud.
The President had forgotten she was there. He got that feeling he got sometimes when something felt like it had happened already. There was a word for that. He couldn’t think of it.
What’s that word when something happens but it’s like it already happened? Not a big word…
Heebie Jeebies? the Press Secretary said. I’m not sure…
No, he said. That’s not it.
And for a moment – just before he forgot he was trying to remember the word he couldn’t think of – he couldn’t be sure he wasn’t still dreaming.
