Anons, I am not a faithful man.
The dream I just had might change that. It was more vivid than any I can recall. It was so unlike any other dream I've had, that I had to jump on here and write it down.
The dream had four settings: a campaign bus, an elections media center, a plane, and Central Park. In each, I was a journo with the Trump campaign, tasked with keeping tabs on public opinion online, and dealing with other reporters whose motives were less than noble. Pres. Trump was present in all four settings. I've never had dreams where the same person was consistently present across multiple settings.
On the bus, Trump instructed me to do <something>. As I set to work, I noticed another "reporter" writing copy based on mine. Soon, we checked online, and saw that lies were emerging based on my assignment. This bad reporter's face was also consistent across all four settings.
Next, we were in an elections media center. Trump approached me, and I told him about the bad reporter. He explained the forces arrayed against him, and gave me my next task: to check /r/politics for <something>. Now, many of you know that in dreams, you can't read writing or work computers very well. I tried loading the page but making typos due to this dream logic. Suddenly, text was perfectly legible, and I was able to complete my task. Again, I noticed that "bad reporter," writing something based on what I was doing. More lies emerged online. Trump came by and hugged me. I don't know why, but I'm pretty sure I know what he smells like now.
Next, we were aboard a plane. A big, roomy plane - AF1? The press pool was there, and so was Trump, and so was my new reporter buddy. My next <assignmentcame. I was to monitor the clash of two armies on a computer screen, resembling an RTS game with red and blue units. As I did that, I watched the "bad reporter" from the corner of my eye as he set to work. This time his lies didn't pay off. He got caught in the act, and the last memory of the plane scene is him being fired and shouting at me because of it.
Finally, we were in Manhattan's Central Park, but something strange was happening. The trees had grown gigantic and twisted, like a jungle. My job was to get through, to get to an office tower on the other side of the park. It felt impossible, but soon I was effortlessly leaping through the dense growth. I looked back, and saw the bad reporter, hopelessly tangled in vines, crying out to me to help free him. I left him behind, seeing many others like him hopelessly lost in the growth below, as I low-gravity-jumped over it all in that wonderful dream logic. I got to my destination in the office tower. Trump was there, smiling. Our job was done. The campaign was a success; the bad actors were dealt with and put down.
This was when I awoke this morning. I haven't felt this refreshed in ages.
I'm either going nuts, or receiving prophetic dreams. I think we're going to be OK, fellas. I think we're going to be OK.