Wake Up Dreaming Puns

It died a hopeless Roman tick

I told her it's just a recurrying nightmare.

It was more of a fanta sea.

Sweet dreams.

I woke up completely exhausted

Pig plays the drums, Horse sings, and Cow plays the guitar. They’re all exceptionally talented, and form a band, supplementing other spots from around the city. They play local dives, some free shows in the park, and they begin to get some traction. Pig suggests they record an album, and they send demos all over. One label is willing to give them a shot, and they open for a B List name on their tour. During the tour, they amass millions of fans, and by the time they record their first major studio album, they have a following so big that 3 of their songs top the charts. They soon find themselves headlining their own tour, as well as every major music festival.

The three friends are over the moon with their success. Never in their wildest dreams did they believe they’d find themselves rubbing shoulders with music greats. It doesn’t come without its downsides, though. Pig has turned to coke and pills to help him get through the long nights. Horse loves the party side of his new life, and his band mates often hide bottles from him when they’re not dragging him, drunk, to his bed. Cow is sad. Watching his friends fall apart, he misses being home and when things were more simple. Keeping his friends in line and covering for them is taking a toll on his own health.

After a year and a half on the road, the band is in the studio attempting to record their second album. Horse is fast asleep, drooling on the mixing board, hungover from the night before. Pig hasn’t even shown up. Cow has a breakdown, and shakes Horse awake. “I’m done. I can’t do this anymore.” Horse waves him off, and falls back asleep. Cow packs up his guitar and buys a one-way ticket home.

A few days later, Pig is all over the news. He’s in jail for possession. Cow watches the news and shakes his head. He knew it was a sinking ship. Horse hears the news from their manager, who is also calling to tell him that he quit. He wakes up to the phone call, and texts Cow, pleading to have a conversation. Radio silence. Horse stumbles out of bed and heads for his favorite pub. He can’t believe that he’s down two friends, that the band has split up, and his life is in shambles. He sits at the bar. “I’ll have my usual,” he says. The bartender leans over to hand Horse a whiskey. “Hey buddy, why the long face?”

One cold winter's morning he was walking along a country road, when he heard a cry for help from a nearby lake.

He turned to see a little girl struggling in the broken ice in the middle of the lake. She'd been skating and had fallen into the icy water. Without a moment's hesitation the tramp ran onto the ice and slipped and slided over to the little girl. He managed to pull her out without breaking the ice further and he carried her back to the road.

He took off his coat and wrapped the little girl in it and began looking for a car to flag down. A few moments later a huge chauffeur-driven limo pulled up, and who stepped out but the little girl's father - the mayor of the nearby town and a multi-millionaire.

"How can I ever thank you sir?" says the father after putting his daughterinto the warmth of the limo.

"Just name your price - I'm a wealthy man."

"Ahem, well ..." stammered the tramp "...eh I'm a little short of cash, perhaps you could help me out"

"Certainly" says the girl's father and he pulls out his wallet.

"Oh dear" says the father, "I don't carry much cash with me, I only have ten dollars - but come home with me and I'll get more from the safe"

"No! No!" says the tramp, "Why ten dollars is more money than I've seen in my whole life - that will be plenty".

"Well, if you insist" says the father - "now what will you do with your money?"

"Oh that's easy" says the tramp "I've not had a rest in 20 years. I think I'll buy myself a holiday"

"Well good luck" says the father, and he gets into the car and signals his chauffeur to drive home.

"Ten Dollars" thinks the tramp, "I'm rich! I'm rich!", and off he goes to the town, to buy himself a holiday.

He finds a travel agent, walks in - much to the disgust of the staff - and goes up to the desk.

"I'll have one holiday please!"

"Ahem, which holiday would sir like" asked the girl at the desk, forcing a smile.

"Oh, any holiday I don't mind" replied the tramp.

"Well how much money does sir have to spend on sir's holiday?"

"Oh lots - anything up to ten dollars"

"TEN DOLLARS!! You'll never get a holiday for ten dollars" says the girl incredulously.

"Oh dear" said the tramp, "and I was so looking forward to a holiday - I'll probably never get another chance - isn't there anything you can do?"

"Well I don't think so sir, but hold on and I'll check"

The girl goes into the back of the shop, and searches in the deepest, dustiest filing drawers she can find. There - to her amazement -

The moth drops down into the nearest chair and says “What’s the problem?”

Moth says “I don’t even know where to start. First of all, my boss is a vicious tyrant who gets off on the petty torments he puts me through day in and day out, and I’m too spineless to stand up to him, so I just take it and I’ve gradually come to hate myself for it. Also, every morning I wake up to the same prune-face old crone to whom I pledged my vows so many years ago. I used to love her, but that love has become like some sun-festering beached whale trying to die. We lost our daughter last year to one of the bitterest, coldest winters we’ve ever had to face in this region. Isn’t it funny, doc, how all the prayer circles and charity drives in the world amount to pretty much nothing in the face of that cold, impartial face of winter, that bleak, pounding, harsh fist of a callous environment, carrying on with its machinations without regard to our lives, loves, hopes and dreams? Isn’t that hysterical, Doc? Oh and then there’s my son. Doc, I don’t love him anymore. I don’t know what it is but I look in his eyes and I see that same harried look of gutless cowardice that I see when I stare at my own face in the mirror. If I wasn’t such a coward, Doc, I know I’d be able to scrape together enough pride to grab that cocked and loaded shotgun I keep by the bedside table, and just run amok and put an end to this grim facade once and for all. I start with the wife, then the boy of course before putting the barrell in my own mouth. Believe you me, Doc, I’d be doing the world a favor. I have nothing to look forward to but a continuation of this spiraling black hole that is my life, this existential cesspool that is the perpetuation of my lingering skid-mark on society. I despise people yet I crave their approval. I’m judgemental yet I care about nothing. I’m bitter, hateful and afraid. I’m alive yet I feel like the walking dead. This is it, Doc: I am a living, breathing, disease.”
The doctor stares at him for a while then finally says “Jeez, Moth, you definitely have some problems. But I’m a podiatrist. You need a psychiatrist. Why’d you come in here?”
The moth says,”Your light was on.”

So my dad being mid 50's with stomach issues had to get a colonoscopy. He goes under and as soon as he wakes up he says to this young female nurse, "I had a dream that I was in a prison movie."