The Decision Once Again

He wakes with a start, sitting up in bed, cold sweat beading on his forehead. The dream again. It had been gone for a while, a few months of peace, but lately the dream is back, every night.

It's 2000 again. They are sitting in his hotel room: his wonderful wife; a few “trusted advisors”; some close friends; the hangers-on. He has two choices. He can hang in. Fight on. It would be bloody, and he’d probably still lose. Alternatively, he can fold, play the statesman, say it is for the good of the country, and rest. The dream is so vivid he can feel the old weariness, hear the inner voice that just wanted it to be over, the weight of the decision weighing him down once again.

But in the dream it's different. In the dream he fights on. There are tears, groans, cheers, and this time, this time he wins. He is tested to be sure, and he rises to the occasion. More tears. This time of a broken nation. But he reacts well. He does the right thing. He catches the bad guys. He helps heal the nation, and with that banked good will he inspires the people to move on. Education, technology, infrastructure, energy independence, the environment. Oh the progress he makes – in the dream that is. That’s when he wakes up, every time. The feeling of loss is palpable. The sense he’s let his country down closes in on him like so much wet cotton.

The paper is on the nightstand. It has been there for a week now. He picks it up.

“Ours is an urgent call to service on behalf of the country we love, the democracy that’s slipping away from us, and a world and planet that are in peril. We write on behalf of our children and grandchildren and plead with you to lead us to a brighter future.”

It's a lot to ask of one man, of one family, going through it again. It would shatter everything. He smiles at how the press would drool over it, but he knows that behind the shocked grins are real teeth. Oh he knows.

The ad is looking for a hero, but do heroes have these doubts? He knows they do. Enough navel gazing. He has a big morning ahead. Showered, shaved and in his best suit, some coffee in his system, he goes out to meet the car that will take him to the press conference. It's time.