No mater what side we’re on politically, most of us would agree that this period of time–covid and the election–has been an anxiety-provoking nightmare. A nightmare of course is a dream that turns your smile upside down. I had such a one the other night.

Fairy Frog Goblins Midsummer Dream
dream a long with me

As an aside, my wife calls me Joseph. For those of you biblically challenged, Joseph was Abraham’s son who became the trusted sooth-sayer of the Pharoah in Egypt. Based on a dream the Pharoah had, Joseph predicted a seven year famine for which the Pharaoh prepared the nation.

Why me Joseph? For those I know well, and that’s the key, I have an unerring ability to tell a person what a dream they’ve had meant. While not on the level of Joseph, it is neat to do. If you know someone well, their joys, their sadnesses, the little and big events in their lives–the things likely to shake their psyches a bit, it isn’t all that hard. And that goes for me and my own dreams.

So here’s my dream. President Barak Obama invited me to go boating. Of course I accepted. This in itself is odd, not only because we don’t know each other, but because I get sea-sick after the first wave. No matter.

Old Parchment With Egyptian Go...
interpretations before Freud….

When I arrived he was casually comfortable on a Chriscraft 38 footer with twin Mercury engines. You should know that other than river boat and cruise ship, Chriscraft is the only make of boat I know and Mercury the only name of a boat engine I know. I invited me aboard. Drinks were served. The motor revved, we pulled away from the dock, and the captain floored it, making a wide angle turn and creating waves that were higher than the side of the boat, or craft, or whatever. Out to sea we went.

Sport Fishing Boat
out to sea we went

The captain kept weaving and the waves kept getting bigger. Obama was having the time of his life as fishing poles were handed out; I was green but game. Suddenly, our waves were met by the one’s produced by Jupiter. Being a God and Obama only a president, Jupiter’s were way bigger. I mean way, way bigger.

Somehow the fishing got prepared but never done. The president was amazed by the waves; I was terrified. I could see them building almost a mile a way, begin rolling towards us, and like a lengthy snowball rolling down a hill they got bigger and bigger. Somehow they always crashed just before they hit the side of the boat. We lifted out of the water and were drenched–over and over again–but never swamped.

The president started laughing.

I woke up.

So what’s it all mean, Alfie?

I don’t have to be a psychologist for this one, just the political scientist I am. It’s all about the strain of living with or in spite of pandemic, the political state of the nation, the revelation that the Proud Boys are well-entrenched where I live, and the election being in oh so soon.

The events of the year have seeped into my soul. Obama? Well he’s been through it and is done, so to speak. He’s experienced it all over eight years and had another four to heal himself. Yes, he’s in the thick of it but except for the state of the nation, he’s got no chips on the table. Hence the smile and good time.

The waves? My bet is you can figure that one out for yourselves.

The zigging and zagging of the boat? The ups and downs of almost everything–the market, the virus surges, the polls, national and state.

Why did we never fish? That’s an interesting one. I’m guessing that my mind says if Trump wins there’s not much sense for folks like me to do much of anything but howl at the moon. And there may not be many fish left, given the rising temperature of the oceans. If Biden wins, there is so much he wants to do it will take years, if ever, for him to clear his path. His success will really depend on the senatorial elections. That’s if he survives. No time for fishing.

When life was simpler, or at least we knew less of its ills and they didn’t come at us in never-ending news cycles, there was a popular TV show called, “The Life of Reilly.” William Bendix was the star. When things were bad he had a line that everyone waited for him to utter. “What a revolin’ development this is.” And it is–at least from my perspective.

Washing Tools
in the old days, but not this old, Bendix was a washing machine…sorry….


It’s breath-holding time. Halloween was a good forerunner for this election. Today is November first. It will soon be over and Bill will be back with his own thoughts on what happened. In the meantime if you’d like to lighten your life and mood have a look at, “The War of the Itchy Balls and Other Tales From Brooklyn” at Amazon.com, Kindle or paperback.

‘good fer what ails ya.

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