Everyone is probably sick of hearing about the election.

Leading up it I was anxious for the three weeks beforehand. I joked, but in retrospect, it was not really jokes.

I joked that everyone has ETSD: Election Traumatic Stress Disorder. I was sick of all the ugly stuff on both sides.

And I joked that I needed another vote: NO. NOT ACCEPTABLE.

I did not want to not vote.
I did not want to vote for a third party candidate.
I did not want to vote for either Mr. Trump or Mrs. Clinton.
I wanted to vote to go back to the drawing board. I wanted a hiatus. Four years with no president: sounds good to me.Just say no.

I thought that the democrats were not listening to people who are sinking from [what used to be middle class into poverty and fear, one accident or illness away from bankruptcy.

I thought that the republicans were not listening to people who are sinking from what used to be middle class] into poverty and fear, one accident or illness away from bankruptcy.

I thought that the 1% is not listening, the rich are not listening, the corporations are not listening.

Donald Trump was listening and speaking to those people.

Not that I trust him to help them. It is possible that he is very smart and will now take a middle course, taking the best for the people from both democrats and republicans and standing up to banks and corporations and companies whose goal is profit and devil keep the hindmost.

But I don't think so. I voted for Mrs. Clinton. She is working with corporations and banks and she stands up for people. I wish she would do less of the former and more of the latter. And at least back alley abortions wouldn't kill women again, again, again.

Our two party system is not working for me. I want more than two parties, I want a balance of government, I want a vote of no confidence.....

Meanwhile, this: http://thehealthcareblog.com/blog/2016/11/15/why-trumps-health-care-plan-will-fail/. Sure, buy health insurance across state lines. But guess what: it won't cover anything. And then I have to collect from the poor. The hospitals do collections better. Have you read your insurance policy? Do you know what's covered? The fine print says they can change what is covered whenever they want, and you can go read the updates on the internet. Brave new world.

My mother-in-law went to school in the Himalayas. It's one of the few memories she retains, so maybe that's where I got it. I show her pictures on the cell phone of her school, still in operation, and she recognizes it, calls her old school by name.

Anyway, in my dream, I'm in a place that calls itself by the name of my old alma mater, but it is situated in the Himalayas. As I tour, I see that students and faculty have the ability to correct miscoloured parts of buildings. Ceiling panels inexplicably chartreuse become rose by mere thought of an observant campus-dweller. Wayward-hued bricks are made to conform. I wonder if the ability represents a measurable and testable example of psychic or paranormal phenomena.

Then I head down the valley to my appointment at the doctor. I encounter GT there. I worked many years with GT, After a rough start, we got along famously. He's retired now. He appears slightly inebriated-- as he was (pacemaker notwithstanding) the last time I saw him. We discuss the colour-changing ability, which we have both noticed. A third sits in the room, at first unrecognized. Then it dawns, or dusks. He's Donald Trump, soon to be the Forty-Fifth President of the United States. I express surprise that the Kumquat-elect would have to wait in a regular waiting room for a doctor. GT and I discuss this fact with him. He admits he's not a real billionaire, and that's probably why he's there, but the dream-fa├žade cannot hold, and I wake up, head reeling with absurdities.

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