I've started having dreams where Ayn Rand wants to fight me. She starts the match with a three hour monologue about the gold standard. The bell rings, and I always think, she's a scrawny, anile Russian biddy, I can take her. Bring it, Olga. That's when she pulls out the Kalashnikov.
Also my roommates say somebody in the house has been screaming at night, but I must sleep soundly because I never hear a thing.