Not All About Dreams

"Knock.  Knock"

"Who's there?"

"Dream a little."

"Dream a little who?"

"Dream a little dream of me."

"Why?"

"Because . . . 

"Stars shining bright above you

         Night breezes seem to whisper "I love you"
              Birds singing in the sycamore trees
                     Dream a little dream of me."

"I don't know what is worse, your singing or sense of humor."

"Say nighty-night and kiss me

        Just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me
                While I'm alone and blue as can be
                      Dream a little dream of me."

"Okay.  Okay. Your singing is worse.  How about telling me another joke?"

"Why did the dream cross the road?"

"Why?"

"To not make sense on the other side."

"Have you ever considered contacting the CIA to have them use your singing and joke-telling talents as tools of torture?"

"No.  That reminds me, why did the CIA cross the road?"

"But I thought this blog was about dreams."

"It's not all about dreams.  Why did the CIA cross the road?"

"I dunno."

"To infiltrate the other side.

"I can hear the terrorists, in the CIA's torture chamber, pleading for you to stop telling jokes."

"How many dreams does it take to change a light bulb?"

"How many?"

"Just one, but the light bulb has to be asleep."

A dream walked into a bar and the bartender said, "What will it be?"

And the dream said, "No more fantasy.  I'll have a glass of reality, please."

And the bartender said, "Reality from this dimension, or another?"

And the dream said, "It doesn't--"

"That's it!  I've had enough.  I'm outta here."

"Sweet dreams till sunbeams find you

Sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you

But in your dreams whatever they be

Dream a little dream of me."