As most here know, franksolich is living through the Great Barack Drought of '12, not only the lack of water from the skies, but also Death-Valley-like temperatures.
It gets so hot it makes sleeping difficult. I don't believe I've had a full uninterrupted eight hours of sleep since, oh, since April, when the temperatures started skyrocketing.
The bedroom here is air-conditioned, but the rest of the house isn't.
So I've been sleeping in fits-and-starts.
Earlier this afternoon, while reading a biography of William Paley, I fell asleep and had a nightmare that scared the bejesus out of me. My hair's still standing on end.
I dreamed it was near the end of Romney's first of two terms as president, circa 2017, and that the sparkling old dude had finally reached the age of senescence, utter senility. Gone ga-ga.
Now, the sparkling old dude's trophy wife doesn't really respect him; she tolerates him only because of his money, and because she can push him around. He's an utter slave to her, and she takes advantage of it.
As the nightmare continued, I watched as the sparkling old dude's trophy wife and his stepdaughter planted the sparkling old dude, now all but insensate, into a wheelchair, where he simply sat all day. They just left him there to sit, not even bothering to clean him up after expulsions from his lower regions. And then at night, they would shove him in the wheelchair into a tiny closet and shut the door.
And then come Halloween and Christmas, they'd decorate him like a clown or a ballerina, and put him in his wheelchair on the front porch, for passers-by to look and jeer.
I then woke up, sweating in fear for the sparkling old dude.
Is this a credible nightmare, or not? Is it something that seems like it could happen?
