A man can dream, can't he?

I was Arizona Senator John McCain’s presidential campaign manager.

One of the events I scheduled for him was a speaking engagement at a high school about environmental issues. I was passing out color glossy handouts to the students in the bleachers. As I ascended the stairs to pass them out to each row, the students became impatient about receiving their handout and I became flustered about giving out the correct number of handouts to each row.

About halfway up (the bleachers were as large as a major league football stadium’s), I realized that I had run out of the glossy handouts and had been passing out photocopied papers on an unrelated subject.

Before McCain’s speech, a woman I hired to provide entertainment was singing into a microphone that wasn’t turned on. Yet it seemed as though everyone could hear her, and when the microphone was finally turned on, the crowd erupted into applause at the sound of her amplified voice. I worried that her performance would overshadow McCain’s.

McCain insisted on getting a photograph with me in which we both displayed our identical military lapel pins side-by-side. I realized with shame as the photo was being taken that his was real and mine was not.

After the speech, I arranged for McCain to stay overnight at a family’s house. The next morning, concerned that McCain had overslept, I rode a bike to the family’s home (which I intended to use to give McCain a ride to the airport). While crossing the muddy front yard, I heard an alarm clock inside the house and though, “Good. He remembered to set his alarm” and stood on their porch as I looked through the screen door, not wanting to walk in on McCain as he was getting dressed.

I called through the screen door, “Senator?” and walked in, discovering McCain having breakfast with six members of the family.

Then I woke up, and realized the whole thing was a dream. Or was it?