Seven more days.
Last night I dreamed that Obama was riding a horse towards a large building, what I presumed to be the "presidency." My husband became aware via internet chatter that a large number of klansmen/racists/ultra-conservative radicals from around the country were descending on that location in advance. The only road leading there was narrow and winding, and went through a countryside. The radicals had laid down a black, tar-like substance on the road to deter or prevent Obama's progress towards the building. We became some of the first responders to the situation, joining the long, winding parade of followers taking the road with Obama. In front was a crew of men with large squeegees, clearing the tar-like substance from the path. Then a friend and I rode side - by - side on horses, leading the procession. Obama was on a horse behind us, followed by what seemed like miles of people following on foot. We were going to ensure that he got safely to that building. As we approached, radical youths hung on pipes or scaffolding in front of the building. They brandished pistols and shot at me and the oncoming parade of people, but would not actually shoot at Obama himself (even though they wanted to). They seemed desperate that we had made it that far. I think one shot me in the shoulder, but it hurt no more than a plastic BB, and left only a pinhole wound. I laughed to myself and kept advancing.
Then I woke up.
Then I woke up.