My Dream for Iran

For years now, I have held on to a very specific dream. I am somewhere in Tehran, my hometown, canvassing for an election. I knock on an apartment door, and an elderly woman answers. “Madar Jaan,” I address her, using the Persian term of endearment and respect. “Will you consider voting for the Left Party of Iran?”

Sometimes, in the dream, she tells me to get lost. Other times, she shows interest, and I explain that our party is socialist, that we want to build more Metro stops and open a new factory in the neighborhood.