President Me?!

As a film director there so much I learn in my sleep about just getting to the heart of a story with no preamble. In an amazing dream last night I found myself mid-inaugural address as the new president of the United States!

Whaaa?

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Dream Inauguration of President Sheetz

Relax, I have no intention of running for president. This was a healing dream. My soul looked past today’s anger-fest president in a totally dismissive fashion.  It was fantastic to see the excitement and hope on the faces of the crowd as I spoke,

My fellow Americans, I have some big shoes to fill as your new leader. Those big shoes belong to none other of President Barrack Obama.

The job of rebuilding our relationships with fellow democracies and allies starts now. Today, as my first act as President, all tariffs are lifted.

At this very moment my transition team is preparing new legislation to convert all coal burning power to solar and to transition the auto industry fully to electric cars production by 2030. 

The dream was so exciting it woke me. But as lucid dreamer I closed my eyes and reentered the dream and used it to set intentions in the conscious field to reunify Americans divided by rampant racism, a sea of lies and to make reparations to the Native Americans.

Analyzing this dream I see it’s the work of my spirit guide Abraham Lincoln, not to lose faith in my values so badly under attack by Trump. Nice work, Abe.

May this powerful dream of renewed hope and change aid the healing of America. Aho!

Coolest Ever 40’s Dream!

I had one of the coolest dreams of my life last night. A true mission from spirit from a happier post war America not to lose hope during these turbulent times.

It’s 1948 and I’m backstage at a New York theater. Stage hands and great actors of the past busily rush past me. I see, Bob Hope, Shirley Temple, James Cagney, Liz Taylor, Bogart and Frank Sinatra.

Frank smiles at me and says, “You’re on, Ken. Knock ’em dead.”

Enjoy some Sinatra on new tab to score this once in a lifetime inspirational dream that;s really meant for us all.

This all seems strange, in the way dreams always do while still perfectly natural at the same time. I adjust my suit, a weird combination of tux top and my old green flannel pajama bottoms. But I have a problem.

“Frank,” I ask nervously, “I gotta find the can. Mind going on for me? You know, hold ’em over while fund the john?  Hate to pee myself onstage!”

“For you, kid? Anything!” Frank says with chuckle as he dives through through curtains to thunderous applause.

I timidly ask Bob Hope as he passes by, “Sorry, Bob. Where’s the can?

“Did a spotlight can fall on your head? Cross your damn legs on get onstage!” Bob says pushing me through the curtains.

The crowd gathered below the stage that’s a balcony on 30 Rock that overlooks Time Square (Hey, it’s a dream!), erupts in applause and laughter as I appear from the curtains in tumble that I raise to my feet. Frank, master of the mic, spins toward me and says with his million watt grin, “Better late than never, ladies and gents, I give Ken Sheetz!”

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I do a funny curtsey bow the crowd appreciates and take the mic from Frank as he pats me on the back and says pointing at my hilarious getup, “Half dressed after just climbing out of bed, Kenny?’

I explain, “Like my outfit, Frank? The tux my love Elizabeth made for me is hand sewn. The green plaid pajama bottoms are from our Christmas film, where people give cash to the poor instead of junk we all don’t need!”

A standing ovation interrupts me from the good-looking happy crowd, dressed in classy winter garments, including an abundance of mink coats. I turn to Frank with shrug. “You’re slaying ’em. Go on, kid!”

“Apologies for being late. Had to grab a pee before coming out here to you good people!” The crowd goes wild with laughter. I find myself wondering out loud, “Why the heck do people always love a good pee joke?” When I spot Bob Hope in the wings, doing a face plant.

I point to Hope and joke, “Bob, I swear to God, if I pee myself in front of this fine crowd and 30 million people on TV it’s all your fault!” Putty in my comedic hands the crowd belly laughs uproariously.

Bob strides from the wings, Oscar in hand, comically looking jealous as he hands it to me, “The bridesmaid again! They Academy fails once again to give Best Actor to yours truly! But I gotta hand it to you, Sheetz. Great job!”

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Franks’s trying to say something, but the laughter and applause of the crowd is so loud that I can’t hear him. So I step for him and lean the mic to hear Frank say in that amazing voice of his…

“Ken’s flick changed a commercially bastardized holiday back to something Jesus would love on his birthday. Kenny deserves way more than an Oscar, he deserves a freaking Nobel!”

Frank kisses me on both cheeks as Hope chimes in, “Huh, kinda like a Noel Nobel, Frank?” Frank nods as he applauds me. The crowd joins in with yet another wild standing ovation just as the “time to get off the Oscar stage music” starts to play softly.

I realize I better get to the “thank yous” pronto, “I want thank all the new friends I made making this film a hit.” I oddly can’t seem to remember the title of the film I suddenly realize to my horror but press on, “I want thank my old friends director Frank Capra, my co-stars Danny Kaye and Jimmy Cagney who gave this film it’s heart and soul.” I gesture to the crowd to see Elizabeth my love blowing me kisses, “Where we would be in life without friends?”

So many loves of my life in the cool crowd I see are waving at me.  I go teary eyed spotting relatives who have passed away. “Most of all I want to thank my buddy Frank Sinatra for believing in me and my work. Peace everyone. Merry Christmas and Happy ’49!”

The echo of the joyous crowd still in my ears, I awake in bed and say to Lincoln our rescue dog, tucked away in his bed in our closet, “Wow. What a great dream, little Lincoln!” Lincoln shoots me a puzzled look and goes back to sleep since it’s only sunrise.

I check my cell phone for one of early morning messages Elizabeth‘s been leaving me each day from the Bahama’s, where she’s about 1/3 through a 5 week kirtan/yoga intensive. But. alas, no message. It takes some of the joy out of the dream as she had a freak head injury just 5 days before she left that’s made the whole thing dicey. But I shake it off the nervousness, still feeling she’s well in the field. 

Update, I was right. Elizabeth simply overslept and is off to yoga. Time for a cup of java and Saturday yoga myself with Sedona’s amazing Naomi C. Rose!