I had a dream about Barack Obama. I was watching Obama give a speech. It felt so good, so hypnotic. He was so beautiful and he spoke like an angel. I remember wondering if I was actually floating in the middle of the air. Have you ever had one of those dreams where you are having a conversation of such surpassing brilliance and insight that you want to remember every single speck of memory from the dream so you can write it down when you do actually wake up? This was one of those dreams. Every idea, every word, every phrase, every syllable that came out of his mouth was so perfect, so absolutely appropriate and energizing, that I knew I was giggling and couldn’t help it. I was surrounded by thousands who were, like me, giggling, half-floating, transfixed by the wise one, Obama. When the speech was over everyone in the dream clapped and we all tossed our shouts of approval at the great man, like so much confetti at a ticker-tape-parade for returning war heroes. Obama smiled his wide smile and waved his kindly hand at us in a gesture of heart-felt affection, then left the stage. In my dream as I tried to write down the gist of his speech I couldn’t remember what he said. It was something like “Change, blah blah blah,” and “Yes we can, blah blah blah,” and “Not red states and blue states, but United States, blah blah blah.” Everything kind of floated away, all airy and insubstantial as is the way of all dreams. Then I dreamed that I had to use the restroom. I woke up.
When I woke up, I was sitting in my armchair watching the end of an Obama speech on TV. I wasn’t asleep. And I hadn’t been dreaming.
As I went to the restroom I still couldn’t remember what Obama had said. The rhetorical brilliance and insight, blah blah blah, disappeared with the last shreds of the dream that wasn’t a dream and then the hypnotic afterglow was flushed away to be gone forever.
That’s how it is with Obama. The Obama Girl sang about Obama in a bid to win fame for herself, but couldn’t be bothered to show up and vote on primary day in New York.
The hypnotic afterglow faded for her.
And what of the hypnotic afterglow that comes from will.i.am’s Canto for Obama? Does it illuminate anything about Obama’s intentions: About what he will do if he gains the presidency? And what of the chanting at 2:20, 3:02, and 3:45 in the song? What kind of political rally does that bring to mind for those who have watched the old, black and white German newsreels from the 1930s?
And if you think that’s something, how about this final example of the psychedelic and paranoid themes that appear to be at the lava-glob-shaped center of the viral campaign that has coalesced around Obama?
Hypnotic, psychedelic, paranoid, what is this leading to?
Obama says, “I inhaled, frequently. That was the point.”
This presidential campaign is turning into a strange trip. Stop the electric kool-aid acid bus. I want to get out!
Trackposted to Outside the Beltway, Rosemary’s Thoughts, Right Truth, Cao’s Blog, Leaning Straight Up, Conservative Cat, Diary of the Mad Pigeon, Nuke Gingrich, Woman Honor Thyself, The World According to Carl, Pirate’s Cove, The Pink Flamingo, A Newt One, Dumb Ox Daily News, Right Voices, The Yankee Sailor, and Gone Hollywood, thanks to Linkfest Haven Deluxe.