Giving Gulliver a run for his money


I had a doozy of a weird dream last night. In the first part of it, I found out that Barack Obama was my biological father, and I was somehow much younger, not quite a kid, but maybe still in college, and I was in some official building where his office was located and being told by the receptionist to wait for a bit, he wanted to speak to me. I kept waiting and waiting but he never seemed to come out of that meeting. Finally I got bored and left and suddenly I was with my friend Olaf and we were somewhere near the north pole, but it really wasn’t the north pole, just some cold remote area we had never seen and could not seem to locate on a map. We were on some kind of cruise ship making our way south, back home or something, but kept getting lost and stumbling upon some very strange cultures. We were never quite sure if we were being welcomed or menaced by the inhabitants of these places, their ways of communicating were totally obtuse. We were in places that looked like hugely monumental Buddhist temples and communities, then on glacier type islands with small wooden buildings, then in extremely dense unrecognizable cities that had walls like canyons as we made our way through unknown streets. All the while we were trying to find where we were on our phones’ map programs, but they were not working at all for us, because we did not recognize the phone type or software and how it worked. Somewhere around the fifth or six lost world, I woke up.