I Dreamed I Met Justin Trudeau

Last night I dreamed I met Prime Minister Justin Trudeau in an almost empty Winnipeg Hudson’s Bay building. I explained a problem about needing new shoes for my feet, one real, one fake. I wanted real shoes, perhaps not as fancy as his, but leather white-collar shoes, black, brown, no matter. Not sandals, not sneakers, not running shoes, not Blundstones, not hiking boots, please.  Loafers or oxfords didn’t matter so much as the fit and the price. Justin wanted to help, so first we had to find the right floor, which wasn’t hard because we were on it, but couldn’t find a clerk or any shoes that might be suitable along side the dimly lit aisles.  He said “I don’t carry cash, so I can’t give you the money to try somewhere else. Sorry.” He walked away with his security detail catching up, walking down the stairs to the Mezzanine, where I lost sight of them.

This entry was posted in Dreams, Music for Men Over Fifty: Poems of Love and Surgery, My (new) Left Foot, My Daily Fog, Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Trackbacks are closed, but you can post a comment.

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