Friday, August 6, 2010

'Sup, says Obama

I dreamed that I was chosen to interview President Obama at Beloit College, where I went to school. I don't know why I was picked, but it was mostly because I was an alumni and I had some connection with a professor. Unfortunately, I didn't prepare any questions, so I was scrambling to come up with something within the 20 minutes before the interview was to take place. I also couldn't find any blank sheets of paper - the notebook I had was full of paper, but every page had writing on it. I also had a lot os loose papers stuck in the notebook, but they were all written on as well. I did have two pens and a pencil, though.

I showed up on campus - drove my jeep up a windy road on a hill as it rained and I looked for an umbrella. Campus looked different from how I remember it, more like the campus of the school where my sister went to college. I was surprised that I didn't have to go through any type of security.

I stood in the lobby of Eaton Chapel, where the interview was to take place, and where I took all my music classes as an undergraduate. While we waited for Obama to show up, I gave a tour to an older woman. I can't remember who she was, but she could either be one of my old professors, or a member of Obama's family. I showed her around the building, and was trying to show her the dark staircase in the back of the building that comes up backstage (I had this idea of us coming out from backstage and her being met with a beautiful view of the chapel from the stage) but it was pitch black and there were heavy cords all over the ground, and I was convinced she was going to trip.

Then I was back in the lobby and Obama showed up, walking casually through the door by himself. "'Sup," he said to me, and moved on. I didn't tell him I was going to interview him.

We moved up on to the stage and sat at a small table where we'd do the interview. I still searched frantically for paper. One of my old professors, Ian, sat to my side, just like how a page turner sits next to a pianist. I think maybe he was going to turn pages for me...

I brainstormed some questions to ask him, all the while realizing that I had no idea why kinds of questions to ask. I thought I'd ask him about music, about Iraq, and about his daughters. Sarah whispered in my ear at some point, "Ask him about eating chicken and being a Veggie." Before I got to answer any questions, the people in charge started moving us to our next location. They'd just been taking pictures all along. I hoped I looked good.

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