And last night I dreamt I was sitting in the back of a black Suburban with Mitt Romney. In the front were two of his advance men. Everybody was edgy. "Put him in the trunk," one of Mitt's stooges said. "No, no, he won't be able to breathe," said his partner. "Well, then let him go." "What, just open the door and just let him run out?" "Why not?" At this point, Mitt finally spoke: "Put him on the roof. He'll be alright." I realized they were all looking at me.