An Idea of What Boxer Deals With Every Morning

So, after I had finished recounting my nightly dream to Boxer this morning, he suggested that it was time for me to put it down on my blog, so that everyone "got a bit of an idea of what I have to deal with every morning."

Well, my dreams are strange and entertaining, and I remember most of them. I have had some particularly fine ones lately. Not quite as wild as I used to have when I was younger and spent a lot of my dreamtime swimming with sharks or actually being a shark. But still some very cool ones. Like the one where I was president of the United States but, for some reason, was living back in the trailer park where I grew up. I was pregnant with triplets and went into labor in the living room. I gave birth to one, a boy. And then the other two refused to come out. Very strange. What is even stranger is that Boxer, who almost never remembers his dreams, woke up that morning and turned to me and said, "You know. If we want to reproduce, we need to get started sooner rather than later, as you are no spring chicken." Which is true. I am a summer chicken now.

Anyway, back to this morning's dream. In my dream, Boxer and I were living in a different city and our house was this delapidated shack on what my dream told me was a lake but which the behavior of the water indicated was an ocean. I mean, it had high and low tides. And salt water marshes. In the dream, it was some point in the future but was also now, or somehow the future was a repeat of political activities happening now. Barack Obama had just won the election over John McCain in a landslide, McCain getting something like only 46 electoral votes. Obama was doing a victory parade down our street, and in front of our house, a sniper started shooting at him. The Secret Service was missing in action, and so I grabbed Obama and hid him in the basement, which was just a packed dirt, root cellar type thing. I was wearing a frilly apron and a polygynous-housewife-like dress. Unfortunately, the tide started to come in, flooding the basement, and we had to balance on top of tables and stuff so we didn't get wet. And while all this was happening, several goats were swimming through the basement, and I was cooking us some dinner.

Strange, no?