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.