You know you got 'em--Share your Election Dreams/Nightmares

…and no, I don’t mean Wishful Thinking Hopes and Prayers “Dreams”. And I don’t mean Rapid Socialist/Trigger-Happy Hockey Mom “Nightmares”.

I mean what dreams or nightmares that are specifically election-oriented have you had while sleeping in the past few months?

I myself haven’t had any, but the last two nights, Mrs. AG has had nightmares of John McCain chasing her, with the gritty clench-face and bared teeth and steely eyes and that wide-armed hunch stance. Excepct he’s fast as a Mo-Fo.

She laughs about it when she wakes up, but she admits they aren’t fun dreams when she’s actually experiencing them.

So, what election-imagery has been haunting your dreamlife?

Funny you should mention this. I had an election-day dream just a few nights ago. In my dream:
I was at the voting booth. For voting, they gave you something like an over-sized postcard, with outlines in various shapes/sizes on it. There were also boxes of Band-Aids, you know the boxes that have like, five different shapes/sizes? OK. So, in this dream, the varying shapes and sizes of Band-Aids ‘represented’ the various candidates. John McCain was the big, rectangular ones. Barrack Obama was the long, thin ones. You were supposed to unwrap the Band-Aids, take the waxed paper off, and write your candidates name on the gauze pad section. Then you were to affix the entire bandage to the corresponding space on the post card. In my dream, I was with a friend who thought she was really “pulling one over on the man” because she was writing Obama’s name on a ‘McCain bandage’.

Very, very strange.

Oooh, I had one on Saturday night! Plus it was what I affectionately refer to as a ‘melatonin dream’ - incredibly detailed and vivid and unbelievably weird.

I was riding my bike to the polling place, which happened to be in some sort of post-Apocalyptic version of Philadelphia’s Chinatown (note: it didn’t actually bear any resemblance to anywhere I’ve ever been, let alone anywhere in Philly, but yet it was). It was dark out and for some reason the streets were totally empty. Somehow, I got myself totally lost, so I took a shortcut through this abandoned warehouse, went out the back, and found myself on this train platform. It dropped down, predictably, to railroad tracks, and immediately on the other side of the tracks was a brick wall. I heard a train coming and thought, “Oh, crap, if I get on the train I’ll never be able to vote!” So me and my bicycle - which was a BMX bike with a mirror on the handlebars for some reason - took off down the platform, which just went on and on through this weird alley.

The train caught up with me, and the first thing I noticed was that there was an enormous McCain campaign sign on the front. The next thing I noticed, as this noble steam locomotive pulls up even with me, is that the conductor of the train is my good friend G, wearing his Army uniform, and he started shouting for me to get on the train or I’d get run over. I declined, and decided my best course of action was to let the train go by and then follow it. So I tried that, but then my high school history teacher, surrounded by a band of ninjas, jumped off the roof above me and tried to fight me. I ended up fleeing back the way I’d come, though the door to the warehouse was gone and it was just this endless platform, and I was a bit upset because I was being chased by ninjas.

Finally, I come to a cross-alley, take a left, and ride my bike straight into a row of voting machines set up at my polling place here in Santa Fe (where I actually live). The ninjas are gone, my friend G shows up, now dressed regularly, and with a grin informs me that he had a changed of heart and voted for Obama after all.

Then there was something involving German Shepherds and ice cream, but I was waking up by that point so it’s a bit fuzzy.

Aren’t you glad you asked? (And I am not making up nor embellishing any of the above; it’s pretty much exactly what I wrote down in my ‘melatonin dream log’ when I woke up.)

I dreamt this weekend that I was the star in a 1776-style stage drama about Andrew Jackson. I couldn’t remember my lines in rehearsal, and the director and the other actors were getting more and more angry with me. I was just sure I was going to blow my lines when the show opened in a few days… then I woke up. Don’t know what the hell it meant, but I figured it had something to do with the election!

You should have just dueled them. That’s what Jackson would have done.

Now why didn’t I think of that? :smack: Of course the guns would just have been props, but what the hell, it’s a dream! I could’ve killed 'em easy!