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Charles Warner Headshot

My Nightmare and Its Antidote

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Last night, at about 12:30 a.m., I woke up from the worst nightmare I have ever had. It is still vivid, so I have to purge it by dumping it on my computer and on my readers -- I apologize.

Huge thugs dressed in black and grey, like Javiar Bardem in No Country for Old Men, wearing huge rubber masks of Cheney, Rumsfeld, Bush, and McCain, were leaping out of nasty anti-Obama attack commercials and, brandishing the same killing tools Bardem used in No Country, were slaughtering young people, including my own children and grandchildren.

Fast cut to another bizarre scene of Bill Clinton trolling for interns in the halls of the White House with one hand on the zipper on his fly and the other hand on a zipper on his mouth, rapidly opening and closing both.

Fast cut to Hillary in the Oval Office, topless, but with pants on, with a wrinkled, evil grin on her face, using a large handgun to gleefully shoot White House staffers as she screeched, "It's my turn, it's my turn, it's my turn!", with each murder.

My eyes opened. I was in a state of terror. I shook my head to make sure it was a dream. It had been. I then tried to conjure up a positive image -- the terror wasn't going to dampen my spirit if I could help it. I was half asleep, so it wasn't too hard. I closed my eyes and saw an image of Obama, tall, erect and smiling confidently. He was on a stage of an arena filled with smiling people - young, old, brown, white, and yellow. I recognized the colors of my wonderful family on the faces in the crowd. Barack was holding a mic, and the chord spread out into a huge horn of plenty that, when he moved about gracefully, showered out large block-lettered words -- "HOPE," "CHANGE," and "COOPERATION." These words were like bricks that smothered and crushed the Cheney-Rumsfeld-Bush-McCain-masked terrorists who now all clutched handguns and carried flags with phrases like "Hussein," "Muslim," "Coward," "Drug User," and "Nigger" scrawled on them.

Obama was giving a campaign speech. He seemed more confident than I'd ever seen him. In his resonant, clam, reassuring voice, he said, "We cannot be driven by fear. We cannot believe the lies of desperate old people. We cannot let nastiness trump hope again, corporate and special-interest money trump change again, or mud cover the light of truth again. Look what we got eight years ago -- war, record deficits, tax cuts for the richest American, corruption, a theocracy, torture, world-wide disgust for America, and loss of personal freedom. Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. Don't repeat the mistakes of the last 12 years. Amnesia will not bring us the change America desperately needs."

I said to myself, "He's got to win. We can't let him be Swiftboated. These fear-and-loathing mongers cannot be allowed to steal or future again." I got up out of bed, went online to the Obama website and maxed out my donation and then did the same for my wife. I then signed up to make phone calls to Rhode Island voters tomorrow.

I said to myself, "You cannot be like the disconsolate sheriff in No Country and give up, you can't despair, and you can't let the evil murderers win." I just turned 76 last week and maxing out my donation hurts. I've lost over 20 percent of net worth in the stock market decline, so I probably won't have enough money to last as long as I intend to -- another 14 years at least. But my children and grandchildren's future is more important than mine.

Now is the time for courage, now is the time for action. We need doers, not quitters; workers, not whiners. My laptop will be my light saber, my credit card my Millennium Falcon, and my phone my Frodo. They will be the antidote to my nightmare.