Last night I dreamt my mommy kindled me fresh whitefish then fried open an orange box. A puffin, swathed in a dry ice mist, rose out of it like a saint, flitted to the bathroom, shnizzled his beak and dunked into the tub! Water rearended my toes, and Thumby, resplendent in a fake teddybear stole, bellydanced and tossed sunflower seeds. She remained awake, her narcolepsy finally nullifoid. Cornzee, several pounds sprightlier, sported a sharkskin bonnet. My purr box hiccuped into overdrive, then suddenly Cornzee began spackling me with kisses and hugs. That is when I understood that I was dreaming.