mamie and me: a dream on irony

(This dream really happened, as unlikely as it may seem.) I was writing a long poem. Mamie Eisenhower was next to me, dressed in a nurse's uniform (weird little hat and all). Was I a patient? I don't know, but for whatever reason I sat there or lay there and listened to her going on and on encouraging me to write an irony-free poem. Meanwhile, guess who sat demeurely in the corner, winking (ironically) at me -- Jackie Kennedy! As this was going on, I was composing a poem about the dream itself (a meta-dream?), accompanied by persistent thoughts: hey this is a really good poem -- I've got to remember this -- I can get this published by The New Yorker! -- they'll love these images of Mamie and Jackie and the theme of playing off against irony.

Mamie was relentless; not obnoxious, but unremitting, insistent. I kept looking over at Jackie (who was dressed very stylishly, even with the pillbox hat of the era), wishing she would be more helpful, stick up for irony or whatever, but she never said a word, just kept looking at me with knowing looks.