THE MOTHER OF ALL ISSUES

John tells his therapist, “Last night I dreamed you were my mother.”

“How do you feel about that?” asks the psychiatrist.

“I haven’t had time to think about it,” says John. “I overslept this morning and remembered I had an appointment with you, so I gobbled down a cookie and a coke and came straight here.”

“A cookie and a coke?” the doc replies. “You call that breakfast?”