Politics in New Jersey is like a dream, in that it all makes sense until you wake up. You find yourself asking, "Why was a camel in my dream singing Gershwin tunes and eating umbrellas, and why did I just get a $16 state tax rebate in the middle of August?" So it's worth reviewing how we got to the current point in the governor's race, now that it's entering its final stage:

Feb. 1: Gov. Christie Todd Whitman indirectly starts the race when she resigns from office to head up the Environmental Protection Agency and help President Bush replace the world's supply of oxygen with the smell of new tires. For a temporary acting governor, she leaves behind some guy named Donald DiFrancesco, who looks like he just dropped by to sell office equipment, but who's actually president of the state Senate or something. He becomes the favored candidate for the Republican nomination, since he'll become more popular as people get to know him, right? It'd be just pathetic if his reputation actually declined when people saw him, wouldn't it?

Feb. 13: Bret D. Schundler, the mayor of Jersey City, begins an outsider's campaign for the Republican nomination. Newspapers report on his friendship with Pat Robertson and his opposition to abortion. Schundler tries to get beyond this by outlining his technical strategy for budgetary reform. News editors decide they're not smart enough to understand a word he said. Stories about Pat Robertson and abortion are reprinted.

March 12: Mayor James E. McGreevey of Woodbridge, the presumed heir to the Democratic nomination, makes his candidacy official. Ads show him talking to regular people, working at his office and rolling around kicking up his legs in large, verdant piles of cash.

March 19: DiFrancesco demonstrates leadership by nominating a state treasurer who won't quit her job at a financial house that does business with the state Treasury Department. The nominee, Isabel Miranda, also turns out to have been fired from a job at Citibank in 1996. So in fairness, she really does need to hold onto whatever work she can get. Strangely, this argument does not win her the treasury job.

March-April: Reports surface that DiFrancesco was accused of ethics violations when he was township attorney for Scotch Plains, received personal financial aid from people who do business with the state and inexplicably appeared one night floating above Carteret, possibly in formation with alien space craft.

April 22: Still, DiFrancesco officially kicks off his campaign, saying he's in the race to stay.

April 25: DiFrancesco quits the race, thus breaking the only campaign promise he had time to make. He admits that, with his opponents running as reform candidates, it may not have been wise for him to campaign with the slogans, "Same ol' same ol'," and "One hand washes the other, if you catch my drift."

April 26: Former Rep. Bob Franks replaces DiFrancesco as a candidate. Republican Party regulars evidently hope the party can distance itself from DiFrancesco by backing someone who looks pretty much exactly like him.

June 26: The party's strategy for Franks is so successful that his lead totally vanishes within two months. Schundler wins the Republican nomination.

July-August: News of Schundler's conservatism starts hurting him at the polls. His backers respond that a governor can't outlaw abortion all by himself, so the press should focus instead on his plan for education. One backer adds, "It also doesn't matter that he claims to bend spoons with his mind and wants to hasten the apocalypse. The Legislature won't let him do it anyway. But look at his plan for auto insurance. Stare directly into it, if you dare."

That pretty much brings us up to date. McGreevey is now emerging to campaign in earnest — tanned, rested, 19 points ahead in the polls and asking if he missed anything while he was gone. And at long last, we get to decide which of these wealthy Harvard graduates best represents the average guy.