early this morning, I had a dream. Believe me when I say that I could not have made this up. I’m simply not this creative in the morning nor did I reckon that my mind and heart were so politically charged at any time in the day.
I was watching the results of this November’s presidential elections. The announcer did not proclaim a name, instead the camera panned to a man. It was not Obama. My heart broke; my hopes were dashed (or damned as it were). But the man accepting handshakes and waving was not McCain either. It was Saddam Husssein. And he wore the creepy McCain smile. And I cannot imagine anything more terrifying. The camera moved to Obama who was throwing a party for the young voters. He had a female DJ who quieted the music and announced that it was time to get ready for Obama’s last speech.
I was so disturbed by this dream. How strangely our dreams express our deepest fears.
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Writing the obituary of my dreams.
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