I dream that Trump is doing an election rally and attendance is mandatory. It’s night and he’s a giant –as tall as a five-story building– I’m angry and disgusted and so scared. He talks and talks and I do something very brave: I grab one of his toes. He looks down with his giant, orange, awful face.

Don’t you agree with me?

he asks.

No, I don’t. Because you’re a cheating fucking LIAR!

The crowd cheers. MAGAs body slams me like it’s the NFL, my dad has to shove them off.

The day after a war is declared. We watch on TV as our soldiers (wearing Victorian uniforms complete with lace and capes) storm into an enemy’s church and slice up their victims with shiny sabers.

Our town is deserted, everybody is hiding at home.

Dad and I go for a walk and are stopped by two guards in fascist regalia, one young and one old. The young one orders me to smash a rock into my dad’s skull, just for funsies. I need to be smart. I turn to the old man, who looks like he’s caught into something bigger than him, and say,

Can I offer you tea instead?

Relieved, the old man accepts. The tea shop is empty though, the owners have left in a hurry. We go looking for them in the building and the young man chases us up the stairs, angry and yelling, until he trips and fall. I can hear him howling in pain below us. We find the tea shop owners hiding in the attic, they ask us how bad it is outside. It’s very bad, I tell them.

I go back home and Trump’s about to come home too, he’s my stepdad now. I’m appalled at my mom’s poor judgement. I shove food in my mouth and go hide in my room. I’m still terrified.