Thank the lord the election is almost over. I care about who wins, but at this point in time I care more for the darn thing to end. My sanity is at stake.
The other night I had a dream starring both presidential candidates. It went something like this…
I’m standing in an entrance to a building with John McCain and others that I don’t know when I see two Volkswagen-sized disco balls float down the street. I run outside to take a look, but don’t see them anymore. I dismiss them as I’m apt to do with floating disco balls and return into the building.
Someone, perhaps a McCain aide, rushes in through the front door, breathless. He tries to shut the door behind him, but an overly large man and woman push their way in. They aren’t quite right. And it doesn’t take long for us to realize that they are aliens from the floating disco balls.
Somehow they manage to manipulate us and we’re all about to commit mass suicide with some kind of pills. That’s when John McCain springs to action, overcoming their alien mind control techniques. He grabs a baseball bat and splits open the head of the nearest obese alien in human form. It doesn’t phase him. Chaos, ensues.
I escape deeper into the building, where I encounter Obama with an army of machine-gun-carrying secret service – Men in Black, if you will.
The dream then inexplicably cuts to later in the day – post-alien crisis.
I’m standing at concession stand inside a movie theater with John McCain. Apparently, we’re great buddies in my dream, even though I tend to be more of an Obama guy in real life. McCain orders a pizza.
While we’re waiting, we watch the TV above the entrance to the theater. Obama is giving his acceptance speech and it is the first time McCain hears that he lost the election.
(This is the weird part…)
I give McCain a hug. It’s an awkward hug because we’re really not the kind of pals that hug in public and McCain’s war injuries make him a pretty crappy hugger. I pat his back. He pats mine.
Once we unembrace, we quickly change the topic to the pizza. Where is it? It should be done by now.
I ask the girl working the concession counter and she tells me that she forgot about it. She asks McCain what his name is so she can place a new order. I tell her that he is Senator John McCain, the Republican nominee for President, and that he has had a rough day between the alien thing and losing the election.
“Just my luck,” McCain says laughing and shrugging his shoulders, as only McCain can, “I can’t even get a pizza! It’s been some day, huh?”
We all laugh. Not your average laugh, but like Scooby and the gang at the end of an episode. It’s a group laugh.
I’m not a big believer in dreams meaning anything. But feel free to interpret.
I’ll get you started…
Does my subconscious embrace McCain or pity him? Does it think that McCain is quick to action, but lacks results? Does it think Obama surrounds himself with guys who can get the job done?
Or maybe I’ve predicted the coming of our new alien overlords that will descend from the heavens in disco balls. If so, will it even matter who is President then? The scary thing is that if the elections of our alien overlords are shorter than two years, I think I might welcome their arrival.