Last night I dreamt of a world made entirely of ice cream. Nice. Right? Not like those struggle-to-the-death dreams that I so frequently have.
Except, of course, the ice cream was melting. The world was caving in on itself. People were dying. I had to struggle to stay alive amidst torrents of runny, chocolate goo and collapsing vanilla mountains.
Only I could spend my night battling the apocalypse in a dream about ice cream.