Damn.
It happened again, the second time.
His subconscious is telling franksolich something.
I dreamed last night, as I had dreamt a couple of nights before, that I was standing on the banks of a river with my fellow alum Skins, which was crowded, congested, with all of the Obamaite primitives, the more recognizable of them being Pedro "Beach Boy" Picasso, Oscar Wilde, Doug's ex-wife, the twin Vermontese Obamite primitives cali and garybeck, the shadowy primitive, the low-calorie primitive, the American Nana primitive, &c., &c., &c.
Lots and lots of Obamaite primitives, waiting.
I turned to Skins, asking what the mob was waiting for.
My fellow alum told me they were waiting for the Messiah.
Oh, I replied.
It was raining; the Obamaite primitives were wet and bedraggled.
Then suddenly the sun broke through the clouds illuminating the earth, and at that same moment there appeared Obama on an ass, riding towards the river-bank.
The Obamaite primitives arose as if one, waving palm leaves, scattering rose petals, moaning and groaning in ecstasy, weaving to-and-fro, their arms upraised in supplication, their eyes filled with tears of wonderment, their lips chanting "Hosanna, Hosanna, Hosanna."
Obama on an ass waved and smiled at the hordes.
When he got to the bank of the river, where there was a boat tied to the dock, Obama got off his ass, and mingled among the primitives, slapping them on their backs and shaking their hands as they bowed in sweaty orgasmic adoration.
I noticed while he was doing this, that Obama was gently and surreptitiously shoving the primitives up the ramp into the boat. It was a deft move, and even if not wroth with writhing joy, the primitives might not have noticed it.
When the last primitive was on the boat, Obama cut the rope, releasing the boat to float downriver.
I've had this dream two times now; one wonders what it means.