Dreams come in two sizes. Big and extremely big. I was the fortunate recipient of the latter category last night.

It began rather drearily: a cardboard house, a pet mouse, and random scrap of paper living as my neighbor - nothing out of the ordinary... for a dream, of course. Then it got weird. The house, mouse and the paper formed a new object, an object of immense girth, and tremendous suspense, that the only way to avoid its presence was to create a monster to block it from view. This I did, and I was rewarded by being transported to a realm of fantasy, where aliens floated on water, rabbits didn't exist, and flowers bloomed thrice on the hour every hour. In this fantastic place, I wandered through trees, around lakes, and under clouds until my feet were nothing but shriveled up piles of hope. A car would appear every so often, and I'd climb into it, never looking where I was going, always looking into the future. A breeze lifted the car into the northern regions of Canada, and I learned some French. In no less than a second, the time had passed, and the past was history. Abruptly the flowers melted, the islands exploded, and the rain was released from the depths of the earth, flooding all the banks with extra money. A pound of ten dollar bills was equal to about 16 ounces of another, and that was fine with me. I was the master of desire. I desired nothing, yet everyone desired what I desired. I gave them nothing, and they were angry. The wind whispered in my ear, and I had to swat it away with nothing but my soul. The grey mist of the December morning had settled onto its bed, and was fast asleep by noon. At a quarter to one, I cut one into quarters, and divided them equally into the distance. Soon, I could no longer see their red heads, and I felt asleep, yet I didn't fall asleep, for I was already asleep.

And then I woke up. What a weird dream, huh?