I thought I would lighten up the subject matter of the blog before we get into Hurricane Hanna and the GOP Convention.Reporters have the strangest work-related dreams sometimes. I just woke up from one such wacky romp through dreamland.
In this dream, I was taking a tour through a hurricane-ravaged Sesame Street with the mayor. Who knew that there was a mayor of Sesame Street? Anyway -- We are stepping over downed tree limbs and we pick up Oscar’s overturned trash can. The mayor tells me that Oscar the Grouch evacuated, so everything was ok.
I’m not making any of this up. I told you that we have crazy dreams.
We then walk up to this large tree, an Oak I think, that was basically split in two from the wind. The mayor tells me that this is Big Bird’s home. He goes on to tell me that the giant yellow bird had become a recluse in the last few years and refused the leave Sesame Street during the mandatory evacuation. He shook his head, looked away and said Big Bird was probably dead. Around this time, storm workers (human – not muppets) call from inside the tree, “we found him mayor, and it’s not good.” The worker walks out with an old coffee mug and hands it to me. He tells me that the mug is the only thing left.
Morbid, I know.
Then for some reason, in the dream, I’m suddenly doing something else. I’m sitting in a room with “Chance” and “White Boy” from the I Love New York and I Love Money reality shows. I’m interviewing them about a criminal trial they are involved in. From the context of our interview, I think they are charged with murder or something. They start talking about how they got involved in gangs after the show and how they lost control of their lives.
While I’m interviewing them, my executive producer runs into the room screaming that my story had changed and that I needed to get moving on the new story. She tells me that the Center for Disease Control called and there is a big problem.
She holds up the mug from Big Bird’s house in a plastic bag. She goes on to tell me that Big Bird’s autopsy uncovered that he died of Bird Flu and not the Hurricane. (I kid you not) That was why he was being such a recluse. All of Sesame Street was quarantined and I needed to grab a photographer and take a live truck.
Just as I tried to explain all that to “White Boy” my alarm clock went off.
I have crazy work-related dreams all the time. This one takes the cake though. I watched I Love Money last night, but I haven’t seen Sesame Street in years. Who knows where that came from.
