Yes, the football.
That was the most confusing, and the third and far and away the most frustrating aspect of the whole affair. We were trying to teach him all about baseball and how to play first base, but the only ball we had was a football. I was so glad to wake up.
All day I’ve thought about that crazy dream. I thought about writing an essay on the current state of politics in D. C. and the need for all sides to decide the game so they can use the same rulebook, or perhaps to write on the fact that the inside-the-beltway crowd hasn’t yet figured out that the current White House occupant isn’t playing by the same set of rules the rest of them have been using during their collective tenure. And I thought of writing an essay about our need to focus on what unites us but how we keep getting thrown off topic and how we keep talking past each other, as if we are having two different conversations, holding two different sets of standards for each other, using two different sets of rules—as if we are in the same game, but some us are playing baseball and some of us are playing football.
But aside from prophetic and visionary dreams, most just reveal more about the dreamer, and so it’s probably a mistake to have shared this one...