I know it’s not just my sister and I who wake up in the middle of the night, worried and depressed about our national nightmare. Thinking about the little children at the border…
Sometimes the worry is so persistent, I can’t get back to sleep without reading Trollope.
Last night, though, I had a dream. I ran into President Obama in the hallway of some building, and naturally sort of collapsed in front of him, saying, “Oh, we miss you so MUCH, we miss you so MUCH!” He smiled and said something, don’t know what.
We headed up a stairway together. “Will we survive this?” I asked him. His response was to smile in a reassuring way, as if he were saying, “Yes, we will.”
He was wearing a kilt. I am ashamed to say I’m not able to identify the clan pattern.
So now I’m wondering whether this means I should move to Scotland for the duration.