That'll teach us to write about war-torn countries right before we go to bed

So we had two dreams last night.

In the first one, clocking in around 3:08 a.m., we were taken hostage and put in a 1986 Russian internment camp. We are denied good food and drink and taken away from our family. We are told Communism is the way to go. But we do meet a good-lookin' fella named Jon. He tells us his name doesn't have an h and pats us on the back. He tells us it'll all be OK.

In the second one, clocking in around 5:36 a.m., we're at the shore house on the porch, watching a cheerleading pyramid challenge in the backyard, only those aren't cheerleaders down there. No, they're moms and dads and they're children. The top of one of the pyramids toppled toward the porch, so we grabbed the two kids from atop the pyramid before they fell three stories to their certain deaths.

So there's that.