In the dream, Katie and I are at Paganicon when Pete Buttigieg walks by.
(Actually, the entire coven is there, but apparently the rest of them are somewhere else at the time.)
We're standing by the bleachers (!) when this happens. (Remember, we're in Dream Country. In real life, there are no bleachers anywhere near the P-Con hotel.)
Katie greets Buttigieg and, remembering us, he returns the greeting. Apparently we had encountered him previously and invited him to a coven meeting. As he's tendering his regrets and explaining why he won't be able to make it (too busy with the campaign), I slip my arm around his waist and sit him down next to me on a bleacher.
(Even in the dream, I can't imagine doing this to any other presidential candidate. That he's gay too, and kind of cute, lends a certain intimacy to our interactions, there's no denying it.)
I notice as I do so that he's getting pudgy. “Too much bad campaign food,” I think.
Well, dreams are dreams, and reality is reality. But mark my words, for what I say is true.
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Only two more cycles? Anthony, you're an optimist. May time prove you right.
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I figure about 8 more years before we grow large enough to be courted as a group demographic.