Day 89

What shall we dream on this night?

I'm in an ocean of juice - never have I been more conflicted about my feelings on drowning.

You are on shore, building us a boat to be crewed by chimps.

I'm in no hurry to be saved. You're in no hurry to save me. But we both know that it must be done.

You rescue me just in time, as I was starting to cramp up. It is true that you shouldn't swim so near to drinking.

However, all is not well on the good ship: ship good (I know. I know! The boat was named by committee.).

A mutiny occurs, and we are both at the mercy of the dread captain: captain dread (stupid monkeys).

He demands we walk the plank and fall to our high fructose doom.

I'm ready to accept my fate, but you complain that the plank ain't been tested, and so refuse to walk an untested plank. Clever girl. The captain tests it for you and in the style of Wile E Coyote, falls to his sweet sugary end. 

And thus, the mutiny is overturned.

You sail us to the beach, that special beach where all beaches meet - you know the one.

And you ask me what I want. In an impossible world where I can have anything, what would I ask for.

I don't know. I reply as such.

You tell me I'm about to wake up and warn me not to squander this moment.

My last act in a world where anything is possible; is to take your hand in mine. We watch the purple sun set into a mountain of cheese, while fireworks launch and un-launch and just to launch again.

You lay your head on my chest and ask me to remember something very important.

I look down at your smiling face, and wake up.