The best way to enhance freedom in other lands is to demonstrate here that our democratic system is worthy of emulation.
~ Jimmy Carter ~
My nighttime excursions to dreamland are always vivid and intricate and unexpected, but no more so than over the last couple of months. Each dream is like a David Lynch short film and I never know when carnival freakishness will come out from behind the read velvet curtain.

Recent adventures have included a meet-up with Jimmy Carter, sans Rosalynn and any Secret Service agents. He and I were staying at the same hotel, although he had access to the VIP areas that were not overrun with hordes of tourists as were the hallways and patios that I could visit. He wore a pale camel-colored sweater and was no taller than me (I think he might actually be a tad over my 5’2.5”). He gripped my arm above the elbow in a firm grasp and pulled me close to him to talk earnestly, though I don’t recall the conversation. Probably something about his most recent book that seems to have pulled a bunch of people’s knickers into a twist. We walked all over the hotel and one point he went through some gilded doors to one of the off-limits areas and reappeared a few minutes later on a lower level. There was Indian food cooking somewhere; the scent was quiet pervasive.

The one other dream I can ever recall having about a President involved Bill Clinton in his underwear. And that was before Monica became a single-word name said only with a smirk. Who knows what will befall poor Jimmy now that I’ve dreamt of him.