I wake up in a cold sweat, my heart is racing, and I’m far too frightened to go back to sleep lest I slip back into the same dream.
So I pass the night pacing the halls of The House on the Hill until I eventually pass out wherever I happen to be.
This morning, I woke up on the staircase that leads upstairs. On Sunday, I was curled up in front of the dryer down in the basement.
It’s mental, Modern Philosophers, and I don’t think it’s going to get better.
Would you like to hear about my nightmares, or do you worry that they might jump from this blog into your head and haunt your sleep as well?
For those of you brave enough to continue reading, I’ll reveal what has been disturbing the REM portion of my evening…
In my dreams, I’m voting for Donald Trump!
And everyone has heard the urban legend: If you vote for Trump in your dreams, you vote for him in real life!
Clearly, Freddy Krueger has shown him the way! It totally makes sense that the Freak in the Filthy Fedora would endorse the Tycoon in the Trashy Toupee.
So how do I get Trump out of my head?
Even more importantly, how do we keep him out of the White House?
If A Nightmare on Pennsylvania Avenue goes into production, I’m horrified that the franchise will spawn eight years of sequels.
I can’t go almost a decade without a good night’s sleep, Modern Philosophers!
The nightmare that chills me the most is the one where Bernie Sanders’ name is on the ballot, in huge, bold letters as the Democratic Presidential Nominee.
Even though his name is right there, and I want so desperately to see him behind the desk in the Oval Office, I still vote for Trump!
The horror! The horror!
In my latest nightmare, I am about to cast my vote for Sanders when a tiny, almost childlike hand with Trump Steaks for fingers bursts through the curtain in the voting booth, grabs me around the neck, and slams my face repeatedly against the little shelf where my ballot rests.
The blood from my nose then pools in the giant box next to Trump’s name, and my ballot has been officially marked. A polling place volunteer, who looks remarkably like Wes Craven, then enters the booth, takes the ballot, and places a “I Voted For Trump” sticker on my forehead.
Ugh! I got chills and dry heaves just recounting that for you.
One, two…Trump is coming for you
Three, four…lock the White House door
Five, six…this election makes me sick
Seven, eight…watch another debate
Nine, ten…never sleep again!
Sleep well while you can, Modern Philosophers. This might be only my nightmare now, but in five months, it very well could be haunting the dreams of every American not able to flee to Canada…
You know what my dream is? That you will follow me on Pinterest…