Dream Ticket

When the solution is simple, God is answering.
Albert Einstei

Last night I had a dream. In it, both Mr. Obama and Mrs. Clinton became president of the United States.

In my dream, it is the late summer of 2008. The Democratic Convention in Denver has ended in a deadlock and delegates to the convention are going home. No balloons drop from the ceiling; no confetti flies through the convention hall. Despite assiduous campaigning by the two candidates for more than a year, their delegate counts, by some magic of arithmetic, have ended in an exact tie, signaling something curious and fascinating in the wishes of the electorate. Democrats want them both to be president.

On one sultry afte
oon in the first week of September, Mrs. Clinton and Mr. Obama meet in a quiet Washington, D.C. restaurant. At first, the atmosphere is tense, the talk is of splitting up the Democratic ticket so that one of them is put forward as president and the other as vice-president. Mrs. Clinton appeals for the presidency on the basis of her experience and nose-to-the-grindstone approach. Mr. Obama suggests that he would make a better president, owing to his ability to inspire citizens to achieve their highest personal and collective aspirations.

As I remember the dream, at that point a light bulb suddenly goes on, figuratively speaking. The two candidates look each other square in the eye for several moments, then their shoulders relax, their frowns disappear, smiles open on their faces. Two people, one presidency. Could it work?

They discuss the possibilities. Mr. Obama, with his eloquence and vision, would be a kind of ceremonial president. He would call upo
Americans to live according to high moral principles, to live not out of fear but out of love. He would represent the United States abroad: with his African features and his vaguely Muslim name, he would bring the people of the world together just by his presence.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Clinton, with her vast encyclopedic grasp of domestic issues and her legendary appetite for work, would be the chief-operating-officer-type president, prodding the citizens to roll up their sleeves, getting things done. She would repair and replace the nation’s crumbling infrastructure, stabilize the economy, institute universal healthcare, and minister benevolently to the very old and the very young.

As the two explore the idea of a Clinboma presidency, it becomes clear that it could actually happen. The rules could be changed to wrap around the people at hand, rather than the other way around. In any case, the Constitution does not specifically prevent two people from being one president.

Now, as they go deeper into the concept, they see that the combined masculine/feminine energy running the country would be a tremendous advantage. Men and women see things differently. A shared man/woman presidency would apply a kind of marriage of minds and hearts to problems at home and around the world. In a switch of conventional role identities, Mrs. Clinton, burning the midnight oil and answering the phone at 3 a.m., would be the brains of the country; Mr. Obama, turning on his charismatic charm and arousing the national conscience, would be the heart of the country.

In my dream, the two candidates run for the presidency and win the election. They stand together in front of the Capitol Building on a chilly morning in January and repeat the slightly revised oath of office: ‘We do solemnly swear that we will faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States, and will to the best our abilities, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States….’

But the dream was not over. As the two presidents enter the oval office and sit at a specially made two-seater desk, Senator John McCain appears. Moments before, the new presidents had appointed him roving Ambassador of Compassion, pleading with the nations of the world, including our own, to stop the practice of torture. He seems to be quite happy with this responsibility, and relieved, admitting that the rigors of the presidency had seemed rather daunting to him during the campaign.

Gradually, sleepily, I awakened from the dream. But it was one dream I wish had gone on, if not forever, at least for the next eight years.