I am cradled in the arms of Morpheus, fast asleep, enjoying my favorite dream. I am surrounded by a bevy of scantily clad supermodels. If this is a dream I wonder why they’re scantily clad . There are no rules to a dream so shouldn’t they be completely UN-clad.
Surely it’s acceptable to be frolicking with naked supermodels if it’s a dream. That’s not cheating? Right? Right?
(Maybe I need professional dream interpretation help.) In the midst of my pathetically chaste dream I hear a rumbling and hacking rising from deep within my subconscious. I wonder if one of my still not nude supermodels is about to lose her lunch because she now realizes who her fellow frolicker is. Maybe this is actually her dream and she’ll wake up and tell her friends about the nightmare she had.
So I hear this rumbling, hacking, guttural sound mere inches from my head. I awaken just as one of our sweet and loving cats hurls what appears to be several days of worth of animal by-product and tuna bits onto my pillow. The warm, piquant liquid cascades across my pillow.
My question for you is this: What would a sane, normal, well-adjusted person do in this situation? Continue reading