Tull's Gun

Last night I dreamt that I had a gun. My father took a very Meg looking puppy and slammed a wooden plank on top of her. She looked like a black, shaggy, canine Jesus. Then he tied a few balloons to the plank and let her fly. I kept yelling at him that she might not make it, being so high up, as she started to descend on the other end of the city. My father sprinted towards her projected landing spot while I kept shooting at him. It was a nice gun.