Stupid Fitful-Sleep Watch: Stress Dreams Running The Magill Report
By Ken Magill
Since launching The Magill Report, I have had hundreds of stress dreams, you know, like those dreams in college where you show up for a final exam only to realize you haven’t attended a class all semester.
Magill Report stress dreams have been oddly entertaining and I thought some may entertain readers, as well. Here are a few that stand out:
I’m standing on a stage holding a guitar in front of a packed house. I don’t know what song it is I’m supposed to be singing, which is really kind of beside the point because I can’t sing and I can’t play the guitar, so I stand there … and stand there.
I’m scheduled to make a bombing run over some country I’ve never heard of in an aircraft being assembled in front of me out of spare parts. Among the problems: I’ve never flown a plane before and have never been instructed how to do so.
I’m in a rooftop gun battle with who knows what group of people. One problem: I don’t have a weapon. I find a shotgun and some shells. I load the weapon. The size of the barrel and shells tell me it’s a smaller gauge than I’d like, but hey, it’s better than nothing. As the enemy advances across the roof toward me I fire. Party streamers come out. Great, a clown gun.
I have somehow managed to let a shadowy group install a nuclear warhead in our basement. The dream revolves around me figuring out how to tell the wife I let this happen and then figuring out what law-enforcement agency to contact to get the warhead removed.
[Anyone sensing a military theme here?]
Lastly, I wake up in the middle of the night, look over and see big red numbers: 421.
I know the numbers are evil. They are taunting me by showing how they can get into our room while we’re sleeping any time they want. I am terrified and I know if I can get the wife up and show her the numbers, she’ll be terrified, too.
So I reach over and begin shaking her [for real] while emphatically pointing at the evil 421 numbers.
Honey! Honey! Wake Up! Look! Look!
Wife mumbles something so I shake her some more.
Honey! Wake Up! Look!
What? What’s going on?
Look! Just look!
What? What is it you want me to see?
Look! Look there! THERE!
Honey, that’s your clock. [It’s 4:21 a.m.]