If I dream very often, I don't know as I mostly remember nothing, but this one I do.
I was with an unidentifiable female friend. She was nice looking, about thirty and we got on well. Another unidentifiable mutual friend had been invited to the White House for dinner with President Obama, but he/she had forgotten something important and asked if we could bring it over. Perhaps it was a Spirax bound book. Even while dreaming I realised the impracticality of such a request and the mutual friend had us teleported from my friend's place in Fitzroy to the White House with the forgotten whatever.
Someone asked Obama on our behalf if we could stay for dinner and naturally we accepted his agreement to the request, even though he was a bit offhand about it and just said 'of course' with a dismissive wave of his hand. But there was no room for us at the table. Instead we sat on a nearby overstuffed and lumpy casual couch and one of the kitchen staff (not one of the maids in black and white) brought us a meal of roast meat and vegetables.
Honestly, I have had better roasts at the local pub. The vegetables had been cooked to mush, with the meat not far behind. Heaps of gravy only added to the mushy texture, but who is going to complain about the food when you are dining with Barack.
Eventually he spoke directly to us and asked where were from. Oh, he said, I am not going there. They can't even spell my name. Dark men in dark glasses appeared and nodded to us to come with them. We were standing outside the White House looking at each other, thinking what a weird experience it had been and how we were looking forward to returning to Fitzroy.
Hmm, Michelle was absent. Anyway, Barack wasn't so nice to us in my dream, so I am no longer a fan. That'll learn 'im.