Dearest Rachel –
It was a scene right out of the last temptation offered to Jesus Christ; I dreamt that the fellow you might guess to be behind the throne and actually running the country right now (because – especially after last Thursday – no one believes that the guy ostensibly in charge really is, which is part of the reason the real powers would be looking for someone else) offered me, of all people, the opportunity to be President, the supposed Leader of the Free World. All I would need to do would be to let him have his say in matters of policy and the like – which ought to be a reasonable request, since he was so experienced and knowledgeable in what the nation – and the world – needs.
I was barely cognizant of his words as he went on about the perks of the office; I was racking my brains as to why he would be talking to me, of all people, about this opportunity. I didn’t check any of the demographic boxes that he would theoretically be looking for, and I hardly need to list those off, so I won’t; at least, not for now. Moreover, as you used to hear from me back in the day, this is something I can’t understand anybody wanting, since, as Ben Parker explained to his nephew Peter, “with great power comes great responsibility,” and I don’t want that kind of responsibility to the nation, let alone the world. Frankly, I don’t think anyone’s suitably capable of wielding that.
“That’s the beauty of this,” he explained, “you don’t have to do any of that. Just let me and my team handle it, and everything will be fine.”
Needless to say, this had alarm bells going off in my head. Not that they weren’t already; this is not a man that I would trust – which is part of the reason why I was surprised he would be offering this position to me, because you think he would be aware of the fact that I wouldn’t consider myself to be part of his constituency – but this was the icing on the cake. Essentially, he was offering all the power in the world to me, but only if I would immediately relinquish it to him – which, in effect, meant that he wasn’t offering me anything to speak of, apart from (presumably) four years of residency in the most iconic house in the nation (and the world).  Again, this didn’t strike me as a particularly tempting offer. 
At the same time, I was pondering the consequences of refusal. Would I be allowed to walk away from this, if I were to say no? I concluded that if I did, and just left it at that, there would be no problem; after all, who would believe that I had been given such an offer? I might not be the most unlikely candidate, but I was probably pretty far up there in terms of preposterous possibilities. The problem was that, even as I contemplated what he was offering me, I was thinking that the country (if not the world) needed to know the nature of the bargain being offered me. This position of near-ultimate power was all but up for sale; I felt I had a responsibility to let it be known that this guy had the audacity to think that he could offer it to literally anyone on the street, with the condition that he be the real power behind the throne.
Naturally, even as I considered this, I realized that this was a course of action I wouldn’t be able to get away with. Not only do I not know the right people to contact in order to let the world know, not only would I not be believed if I did so, but if I did so, I was pretty sure that my life wouldn’t be worth a plugged nickel. Which, to be honest, made the offer to me that much more curious; why extend this opportunity to someone with little in the way of any stake in it all?
Look, honey, I’m not saying that I’m suicidal, but in certain aspects, I’m not all that concerned about whether I live or die. From the platitudinous line from the hymn about how “this world is not my home / I’m just a-passing through,” to the more personal and concrete hope of seeing you sooner rather than later, the threat of sending me to the afterlife isn’t exactly the most potent. One would be better off delivering such a threat to someone who had more to lose by leaving this world behind (and facing the next one, for that matter; a real hellbound sinner would consider it in his best interest to stay alive as long as possible, and thereby be much more compliant than the likes of myself, I think).
It may explain a lot about our current situation, for all I know.
Being a dream, it didn’t exactly resolve itself before I woke up – or if it did, it seems to have faded away as I’ve been trying to go into the details with you about it. I didn’t give him a response, mostly because I was still trying to weigh the consequences of refusing and attempting to publicize the offer he had just given me without immediately winding up with a bullet in my brain (like I said, I’m not suicidal, but this kind of transaction, if it was real, would need to be told). Suffice to say, it’s not a position I want to have to deal with; be it the one he was offering, or the one I would have to take as part of my refusal. Thankfully, as a sixfold oppressor, it’s not something I would likely have to deal with in real life. Still, it gave me a lot to think about, at least as a theoretical exercise.
Still, that’s all it was; now I need to get get back to my real life, which thankfully doesn’t require anywhere near that level of responsibility. But even so, honey, if you could keep an eye on me, and wish me luck, I’d appreciate it. I’m still going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 