34. A Mennonite Man

I was at some conference in a house with Barack Obama & Hillary Clinton. I knew I needed to speak to them privately, and asked if they could meet with me between sessions. They consented. We looked for a quiet place, but the first one we found -- a screened porch -- was too hot or too cold or noisy or something. We ended up in an inner room around a long folding table. I sat next to Obama; Clinton sat across from him.

They were amicable. We exchanged polite greetings, and I discovered I had real warmth and respect for Hillary, despite knowing I would vote for Barack. I said that I had just wanted to give both of them some down time to collect themselves, since they had been working so hard, and I saw Obama's eyes brim with tears.

Then two Zen priests in long robes arrived. The one in the orange robe sat next to me and the one in the yellow robe with sequins sat by Hillary. Now I became aware of other people in the room -- campaign managers, etc. -- whereas when we entered, there hadn't even been a security guard. Feeling somewhat sheepish that all these people were now going to hear my private comments to the democratic hopefuls, I lowered my voice.

I just want to let you know... I'm praying for you.

33. Female Urban Planner Who Supports Barack

I was at some parade for the democratic candidates. Both candidates had a float. Barack's was very small with a sign that said Hope. There was loud music coming from it and people were dancing in the street behind him. Next came Hillary. She was riding a tricycle that had been covered up to look like a donkey. She was riding in the middle of the street, but no one was next to her because attached to either side of the tricycle were long metal poles that stretched to the sidewalks. The end of the poles were supported by wheels and the poles had signs attached them that read Vote Democrat. As she rolled along, people had to move off the street and onto the sidewalks and grass to make way for her.

32. Woman In NYC, Originally From The South

I am watching a debate in which Bill Clinton and Hillary are debating Barack, and I can hear what is going on in the Clintons' heads. Barack is talking about an issue, and they keep saying over and over again, That little weasel. Shut up you little weasel. You're messing everything up, weasel. I'm thinking, Weasel? He looks more like a ferret to me. Then, because I don't know what a weasel actually looks like, there then comes a cavalcade of pictures and scenes with cute little ferrets.

The dream ends with a head-and-shoulders shot of Barack, which I think was my subconscious dream editor's way of showing him again so I could be like, Hmm, he does kind of look like a ferret.

Now that I'm awake, I realize weasels and ferrets are pretty similar and that he doesn't really look like either.

31. Female Obama Supporter

I am watching Obama, Clinton and John McCain, because I know something important is going to happen. They are making important speeches, but I'm not really paying attention to what they're saying. All of a sudden, Obama stops talking. He has been shot and there is a very clean-cut bullet hole right in the center of his chest. He looks stunned and can't talk. Then Clinton and McCain get shot in the same way.

It dawns on me that all three of them are dead and I start to cry. I am so upset that such a tragic thing has happened. I realize that it was a triple suicide pact. I stumble out of the room, crying. I want to tell everyone the terrible news. I think I am the first to know, but then I think maybe everyone already knows and I am really behind on the news.

30. Mother Of Toddler, A Writer And Teacher

I was walking down a city street with dirty pavement, probably in New York, beside Hillary Clinton who was wearing a black suit and heels. I wasn't sure why I was with her. There was this sense that somebody had to walk with her, and I was there. I felt myself to be her junior, although I didn't work for her.

Barack passed in front of us, wearing a gray suit, and went through the doors of a hotel. I felt Hillary bristle and I began to feel really bad for her.

You know he's going to win, I said. But it's okay.

She stared after him forlornly and we sat down on the hotel steps, next to each other.

In real life, I'm an Obama person, and Hillary generally makes me very, very angry, so the rest of the dream was strange. The weight of her sadness and her disappointment was acute as we sat next to each other on the hotel steps. I felt so sad, so sorry that she had worked so hard and it didn't matter because Obama would win. It all seemed monumentally unfair. I felt like it was because she was a woman, and that she'd had the rug pulled out from under her by a suave, smooth-talking man who wasn't following the obvious trajectory, which would have him running in the next election, not this one.

In the dream I still supported Obama, but felt the injustice Hillary Clinton faced. I wanted to cry because I could see how she deserved the nomination, how she had worked for it and earned it, and that she really felt like she was letting down her supporters -- especially her female ones.

I find this dream really strange because in my waking hours I don't feel this way at all.

I wanted to hug her, but I knew she didn't want to be touched. So we just sat next to each other, very sad.

It really is going to be okay, I said. And I kept wondering if Barack was going to come out of the hotel.