World Dream Bank: President of the World

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President of the World

dreamed 2009/10/19 by Wayan

I dream a Congolese novelist cooks
up a what-if political knot:
at last the House of Saud is caught
funneling billions to murderous crooks.
Mobs rush their mansion walls;
Even the Bushes won't answer calls.
Now who'll run Arabia? Egyptians rush in,
enthusiastically swearing they're twin
brothers, always been. Hubris, just a whiff!
The inland tribes (who scorn this Earth
for scorching reason: Arabia is Hell)
see Cairene vultures as they are,
and wage a sullen guerrilla war.
Arabia's neighbors may, appalled,
each take a seething pizzaslice.
Beware of fingerscald!
So in the book, modern and fairly sane
coastal majorities rule each wedge;
Wahhabi goatherder gun-nuts no more
get to kick around the civil edge.
Sure, those desert rats'll loathe the shore
and cook up plots of guerilla war,
but such shard-nations might just endure
UN troops in their hinterlands, where no
civilized cityfolk are mad enough to go.
The House of Saud would never have put
needed blue cops in its seething gut.
Poison stew. But any mess, despite
borders toddler-scrawled, could beat
that clique of hoods who so discreet-
ly hired fascist theocrats. Saud farewell!
Enjoy your Princely House in hell.
Dream image by Wayan: sketchmap showing Arabia as it might be carved up after the Saudis flee, next to a Congo already carved up by its neighbors.
But just the dream of a novelist!
I look up from his book, to find I sit
on a curb downtown, still just a bit
in shock at the news, as friends inquire
"Wayan, how are you takin' it?"
Not well. I was just tapped to be
world president. (I didn't run
for office of course--what mad
ideas old mass democracy had! And won
Ambitious blatherskites galore.)
I'm drafted for a year, no more
of course--to limit how much I harm.
How am I? Well, all I've done so far
is obsessively clean my nails. They are
quite grubby, but I better scour
profounder soul-crevasses, if I hope
to rightly use my year in power.
Think back to Obama, our Founding Woop.
Can I swipe multicultural roots?
No, too late to fix that. And no time
for a race change either. But perhaps
I can get a quick saintliness transplant!
And with that hint that I'm a moral snake...
glum on my curb, I unimpeachably wake.
Sketch of a dream by Wayan: I sit glumly on a streetcorner curb, cleaning my nails. A globe sits by me.

NOTES

Cover of 'Terrorist Hunter' by Anonymous.

A Congolese novelist: the Congo was pretty much carved up by its neighbors for a decade. Just made things worse! So the book may be a roman a clef more about the Congolese civil war than about Arabia getting pizza-sliced.
The map: the dreambook did have this map of sliced Arabia, but it didn't show the Congo, nor every detail here. But as I drew what I did recall, I couldn't resist the call of the Drastic Steppes. And, of course, Hajneyland (already there really, once a year, right?)
Saudis funding jihad:
1: I just read Terrorist Hunter by Anonymous (an Iraqi woman living in the USA). She rips the FBI and the Bush administration for protecting the Saudis despite damning evidence that high-up Saudis do fund theocratic terrorists worldwide.
2: Also saw a German TV show on the flight of the Orthodox Christian minority in Turkey. The show focused on recent improvements, avoided detailing the bigotry that drove them out. Not to single out Turkey; Muslim intolerance has worsened in much of the world. The dream blames the Saudis: bankrolling hate.
President of the World: a poke at Freud, who claimed that dreams of grandiose jobs are simple vanity. But here I'm handed world leadership--and all I see are my flaws. Oversimplifying again, Freud! I sense a poke at the Nobel Committee too, for Obama's peace prize. Bit early, guys.
Woop: future slang for World President, I guess. Or a mix of VIP plus... whoops.
Drafted as politician for a short term: from Kim Stanley Robinson's Green Mars and Blue Mars. In his utopia, Martian representatives are drafted by lot for short terms, not elected. Rule by amateurs, but it reduces corruption. Only works in a well-educated society, of course.
Dirty nails: Did some house-repair jobs today, and my nails are dirty. But spiritually I feel grubby too. I'm bitter, cranky; I respect Obama mainly for a patience and courtesy I never could sustain.
ACTION: Uh... don't become a Congolese novelist? Or an Egyptian politician (always wise). Or a UN cop in Arabia (wiser). Or (wisest) the next Woop.
This is Dreamverse #61. Every week a dream-poem!

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