Andrew, Brandon, Gordon, and pickle

This was my dream last night:

It wasn't clear whether I was in New York or Provo. It felt like Provo, but it also felt like there was an understanding that those involved had moved from Provo to New York. I was in the car with Andrew Clark (a close friend and neighbor from very young, and if you're keeping track, Chris Clark's (the Jolly Porter's) brother), and we were on our way to play football. I was really excited to play football. On the way, we passed by Brandon Warren's house (Brandon is another friend from elementary school through high school). I saw Brandon, so I got out and asked if he wanted to play football with us. (As I approached the house, I saw that some of the Warrens were playing ping-pong--incidentally I beat Brandon to win the ping-pong tournament at Wasatch elementary school in 1984. The two of us also won the doubles tournament) Brandon responded that he would love to, but first he was waiting for a visit from Gordon B. Hinckley (the Mormon prophet). He said it non-chalantly, but clearly intending for me to hear that President Hinckley would be coming by. I asked: "Really?...I want to meet him, can I stay around?" "Sure" I reported the news to Andrew, and we both got out to wait for President Hinckley.

Excitement was building, and I asked Brandon why Gordon B. Hinckley was visiting his home. He responded that his Dad (Doug Warren) had done a lot of work with Kenneth Starr, and Kenneth Starr was a close friend of President Hinckley. I asked: "Really? Is President Hinckley good friends with Kenneth Starr?" Brandon looked at me half in wonder that I didn't know that.

Well, President Hinckley finally arrived and everyone was understandably excited, but not trying to appear so. I was particularly excited because I have always admired President Hinckley. I looked forward to seeing him in a more informal setting. President Hinckley came in with a small entourage, and he sat down. It seemed everyone wanted to converse, but noone knew what to say. President Hinckley though, seemed at ease. Brandon's dad asked if he could get anyone some water or anything. President Hinckley jumped right in and asked if there were any pickles. "I think so" answered Brandon's Dad. President Hinckley stood up and marched to the kitchen to get a pickle, all the while remarking how he loved a nice, crisp pickle. He walked past and I instinctively turned to watch him walk to the kitchen, confident and determined. In my dream I felt like I admired President Hinckley even more after this.