"Sweet Dreams"

Just to prove to you faithful readers of this column out there in computer land that my brain has no more ability to process useful information on any given Sunday morning than a package of ramen noodles, today's story will be about "dreams". No, not the "American Dream", in which one can start out sweeping floors and washing dishes in the family tavern and work your way up to the position of "Speaker of the House", giving you the opportunity to cry on national television to a world-wide audience. What I'm talking about here are just the plain old dreams that we have in our sleep each night, at least I hope it's "we", cause if I find out that I'm the only one who's having them I'm going to stop sleeping altogether. My question is;" Why do we have dreams"? And; "Why do we always wake up just before something really good or really bad happens"? And of course; "Do hideous giant mutant grasshoppers from another galaxy play "Trivial Pursuit" on top of the local grain elevator at night, or does it just look that way from MY house"? I think we should start a government-run program to decipher our dreams, unless we've already got one! We could fund this program through tax dollars of course, and hire only the very best psychiatrists to evaluate what goes on in our brains when we are trying to relax and unwind each evening! Seriously! This is a major issue that needs to be confronted as soon as possible, and like you,(I'm sure), I would only feel comfortable if the government was placed in charge of the basic research, mostly because they've done such a great job in other areas, such as social security, medi-care, and the postal system. What evil element tucked away in our brains causes us to have a dream of high "sexual content" wherein we are just about to (at long last) gain carnal knowledge of say, Carrie Underwood, (totally made-up name), only to be rudely awakened at the most crucial part of the dream by something more closely related to reality, such as an alarm clock, family dog, spouse, or (God forbid), the neighbors Billy-goat that you thought would enjoy spending the night in your house watching television rather than be outside in the pouring rain, which he had been for several hours before you made this decision, and yes, you were drinking heavily! But what about the bad dreams? You know, the "nightmares"? My good wife Kristy tells me that she can't count the number of times I've thrown her off the bed and covered her up to protect her from huge scary monsters and enemy soldiers, but she does admit that she's getting tired of trying. It gets a tad embarrassing to tell you the truth! It's like, "Are you SERIOUS"? "You honestly didn't SEE that gigantic spider with a compound bow and tactical nuclear arrows crawling across our ceiling"? I think that after all these years together she's finally starting to appreciate the "protection" I give her at nights, even though she never readily admits to seeing the hidden dangers that I protect her from, but she has taken to leaving a "Louisville Slugger" baseball bat and a can of pepper spray within her reach at night, so that's a good sign. But what about the dreams where you're standing on the railroad tracks in front of an oncoming train for some un-godly reason, and suddenly realize that you've become paralyzed from the waist down and are unable to move out of the way? If you're like me, you're probably wondering not only why you suddenly became paralyzed in the middle of such a maneuver as crossing the tracks rather than in your recliner in front of the television, as well as why there's an oncoming train getting ready to hit you on a track that's been closed for twenty years. I also notice that the engineer always looks rather shocked too, and will most likely need several months of intense government run therapy if he actually hits me some night. Anyway, I think we should all contact our elected officials immediately after reading this and get a nationwide attempt to ban this column permanently! Wait! That's not what I meant to say! Ha Ha! We should contact our elected officials immediately to generate a government run program to ban all dreams that don't end up with gaining at least some type of carnal knowledge of Carrie Underwood! Please remember that this is only a "humor" column! Right honey? Sweetheart? Babydoll? Snookums? Does this mean that you want to play baseball? Until next Sunday, sweet dreams, friends!