To which planet will this be shipped to?

Even the aliens didn't have a negative impact.

Go figure.

At times it honestly feels like our minds never take a rest. I know mine doesn't.

I'm constantly thinking not only about what needs to be done, or what is happening now – but also about all of the things I have to do in the coming hours, days, weeks and months.

At times it feels like you can never get a break from yourself.

So, there is nothing worse than when you have worked a long and tiring day and then you go to sleep that night and you dream about work.

I have done interviews in my sleep.

I have covered assignments in my sleep.

I have written stories in my sleep. Talk about working 24/7.

But where do the aliens fit in? Thankfully, not on the job. Although my former editor Fred Hatfield did once have all of the reporters in the newsroom write our own obituaries (this was very early on in my career) in case we were taken out by space debris while walking across the parking lot.

A memory on my Facebook page recently popped up that reminded me of a time years ago when I had watched a couple of movies that had aliens in them and how they factored into my not-so-restful night's sleep.

One was called Cowboys and Aliens. The other movie, I haven't a clue. It was something I stumbled across that was so cheesy I couldn't pull myself away.

At the time I was busy getting ready for our annual high school hockey tournament – formerly the Cook's Cup, now the Timber Cup.

Aside from stressing out about the weather leading into the tournament, my mind had been in a constant tournament state, thinking about all of the things that needed to be done.

One of the things included a gift card raffle fundraising draw.

Even before it happened, the fundraiser had already gone really well. How did I know this?

Because I spent a few nights dreaming about it.

Do you have any idea how boring a dream is when you spend most of it writing people's names and phone numbers on booklets of raffle tickets?

We're talking real high-octane stuff.

But then things took a twist when the aliens crashed the fundraiser. Yes, the aliens.

Their spaceships were landing in the Mariners Centre parking lot. They were shooting lasers at us as in the lobby of the Mariners Centre as we were trying to sell tickets. They were chasing people. Hockey sticks were flying into a black hole in the sky.

Talk about inconvenient.

Plus, this year they'd have to be checked for double vaccination status.

Eventually they set aside their ‘let's-conquer-earth' hostilities long enough that I was able to explain the importance of fundraising to them and they settled down.

Some bought tickets.

One alien even won a gift-card wreath.

I woke up shaking my head while also pleased that the fundraiser went well.

It was better than another dream I had in which I was covering a cow patty bingo fundraiser. Have you heard of these? They used to be popular.

You bought a numbered square and if a cow pooped on your square you won money.

In my dream, however, things took a dark twist. If the cow didn't poop on your square, you got shot in the leg.

Doesn't an alien invasion sound better?

Something to sleep on, I guess.