So last night I dreamed I was sitting in Sacrament meeting, listening to one of my kids (it wasn't clear which one) (also, he was young again) give a talk I'd written out for him. Halfway through the talk, my kid says from the pulpit, "Mom, I can't read your handwriting any more."
At that point I stand up and explain to the congregation what I'd written--something about how I'd been a cheerleader once, because don't you know that's relevant spiritual information. And then, since I had the floor, I decided to tell a little joke.
Only no one laughed.
And even though I have been awake for nearly two hours now, I am still mortified for having bombed at church.