I was at the White House at some party. There were people everywhere. It was informal. Obama cam walking by, and I asked him for one of his cigars. He gave one. It was long and skinny and in a tube-like container.
I thanked him and kept walking around the halls and told my friend that I couldn’t smoke it. The President of the United States gave me a cigar. I wanted to keep it. So, we decided that I should ask for another one.
Obama had gone back into a room with some people – dignitaries. As they came out, I could see that he changed his clothes. He looked more like a well-dressed golfer with his olive green sweater vest on.
I went up to him and said how grateful I was to get one cigar,, but I couldn’t smoke it because the President of the United States gave it to me.
Could I have another?
He had us follow him into a hallway that went to some room – like a private residential area. He walked in and shut the door while we waited in the hall. There were bras strung up on the door like they were laundry being dried. He looked at them and groaned like a dad would when the kids leave their clothes lying around, but somehow I sensed that it was Mrs. Obama’s. They were big. One was dark pink. I thought that this was just like home.
He came back with a brown paper bag full of cigars and gave them to me. I couldn’t believe how nice Obama was. I was thinking that we really didn’t know his heart. It was cool of him to give them to me. I thanked him.
Somehow, we then got to talking about raising the dead. He said that he wanted to. I told him that I had tried four times but had not seen anyone come back. He said that we would have to get to know me. It’s like we were instant buddies.
I thought to give him my card, but I woke up.