A man and a woman, strangers, wound up in the same sleeping car of a train. During the night, the woman leans over her bunk and says, “I’m really cold. Could you get me another blanket?” The man says, “I’ve got a better idea, let’s pretend we’re married.” The woman said, “Why not?” The guy said, “Good,” Get your own blanket.”
What people do in their sleep can only be classified as weird. Some sleep walk, others have really weird dreams, while others talk. I’m a talker. Lately, I wake myself up having conversations with people and when I respond, I do it out loud. Toward the end of my blabbering, I realize it’s just a dream and I am an idiot.
It’s embarrassing. I’m sure that whatever I’m saying is brilliant and would change the world, (right), but I can never remember what I said. I know I did the same thing last night, but can’t remember a thing about it.
I could be saying things that might end the violence in the middle east! Or it might just be jabbering that means absolutely nothing. As a comedian, I used to keep a notepad on my end table, because I used to think things that would make me laugh but could never remember them. So I decided I would write this stuff down.
It was the worst material – ever. Not the least bit funny. Nothing even made sense, although if you’ve seen my act, I’m certain you think it would fit right in.
Sometimes it’s sad. One night last week, I was dreaming that I was talking to my favorite brother, Jim, who I love dearly. I was so excited to see him! Suddenly, I realized that it was only a dream. I was so bummed. Where’s this astral projection I used to hear about where you could leave your body and cruise around wherever you want and then come back?
At one point in my life, I realized that I could control my dreams. I remember the first time it happened. I was turning right in my car and I hit an elderly woman. I freaked out. Suddenly, I became aware enough to realize that I could change the outcome. So I replayed that part of the dream, allowing the old lady to pass before I turned. Then I shot her.
Just kidding! I missed. I tried, though, and that’s the important thing. I gave it the old college try. I’m not sure what that means, really. Why college? Rock climber or mountain climber would make more sense to me. The college implication is that the student did their best, but failed. Of course that wouldn’t bode well for the rock or mountain climber either, would it?
How about girl scouts selling cookies? If she fails, it’s no big deal, unless the leader is an overbearing beast of a woman. Then again, if she laid a hand on one of the girls she would go to jail. So, I’m going to go with the girl scout analogy.
See you tomorrow.
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