Last night I dreamt that I was watching Barack Obama on Regis and Kelly.

Last night I dreamt that I was watching Barack Obama on Regis and Kelly. It was the morning after a Democratic primary, and he was providing commentary as the votes were tallied. He was smart, funny, utterly at ease. He gave no sign that he found Regis and Kelly—the show or the people—ludicrous. Such was his self-possession and grace. He was gracious to his hosts, and they were ennobled by his presence.

Obama’s comportment was impeccable and he was thoroughly charming, but the really remarkable thing about him was his suit. It was made from a buttery yellow and soft teal windowpane plaid. The fabric was slightly iridescent, casting an apricot shimmer whenever Obama moved. His suit looked like the sun rising over the ocean. His shirt was blue-green, a slightly deeper shade of the plaid’s teal, and his tie was broad and rust-colored, picking up the suit’s flickering glow. It was a truly amazing get-up.

Now that I’m awake, recollecting Obama’s magnificent suit, I realize that it reminds me of the outfits sometimes worn by old black men as they promenade on a Sunday afternoon. The only thing missing was the matching hat, and maybe a color-coordinated Lincoln Continental. I would love to have a president who dressed like that.

NOTE: I was reminded of this dream when I read a “Talk of the Town” piece this morning describing a blog set up to collect nocturnal fantasies about the Democratic presidential candidates. Apparently, I’m not alone.

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Last night I dreamt that I was watching Barack Obama on Regis and Kelly.

Last night I dreamt that I was watching Barack Obama on Regis and Kelly. It was the morning after a Democratic primary, and he was providing commentary as the votes were tallied. He was smart, funny, utterly at ease. He gave no sign that he found Regis and Kelly—the show or the people—ludicrous. Such was his self-possession and grace. He was gracious to his hosts, and they were ennobled by his presence.

Obama’s comportment was impeccable and he was thoroughly charming, but the really remarkable thing about him was his suit. It was made from a buttery yellow and soft teal windowpane plaid. The fabric was slightly iridescent, casting an apricot shimmer whenever Obama moved. His suit looked like the sun rising over the ocean. His shirt was blue-green, a slightly deeper shade of the plaid’s teal, and his tie was broad and rust-colored, picking up the suit’s flickering glow. It was a truly amazing get-up.

Now that I’m awake, recollecting Obama’s magnificent suit, I realize that it reminds me of the outfits sometimes worn by old black men as they promenade on a Sunday afternoon. The only thing missing was the matching hat, and maybe a color-coordinated Lincoln Continental. I would love to have a president who dressed like that.

NOTE: I was reminded of this dream when I read a “Talk of the Town” piece this morning describing a blog set up to collect nocturnal fantasies about the Democratic presidential candidates. Apparently, I’m not alone.