Bree's 115th Dream

So, last night I had a dream that Bob Dylan was my cousin and that he died. I went to his funeral and couldn't cry. Mostly because I was pissed that I had such a whoop ass cousin who was too cool to keep in touch, ya know? The pall bearers took the casket by and they hadn't closed the lid so it kept smakcing the hell out of the guy to Bob's left. He wouldn't put the lid down though. Bob was skinny and he looked like shit. He was wearing a Colonel Sanders suit, only it was black and he was clutching a ukelele. I said, "see ya" and I went home. I lived in this gorgeous home, all white with vaulted ceilings and, if I hadn't known better I would have thought I was in heaven. Only in heaven could I have white apholstery. I also had a skylight that, apparently was open. A small plane kept flying low overhead and dropping little packages through the skylight. All of the packages were singing toys. There was a singing Mr. Potato Head and a singing Sponge Bob and a singing Patrick and they were all driving plastic Flintstones cars around my lining room, each of them singing a different song. I was freaked out by things falling from the sky and wanted to run, but Tom made me stay saying "They're just toys! Toys! Toys!" I ran out and went to this little hacienda which, to my surprise, belonged to my Dad. I was going to get a little rest, but the whole family was there making dinner and arguing about ice cream. I went into the bedroom closet and found a gun barrel. Just the barrel. It was in a heat sealed plastic baggie like the crap you get from carnies at the fair. I grabbed the barrel and searched for a bag with a trigger in it. I couldn't find one so I stuffed the barrel in my bag and then promptly began to worry about ariport security. I need to remember to take it our before I go to the airport. I walk into the kitchen and there are massive amounts of ice cream cake (the kind with the little chocolate crunchies!) and booze. Everything was made out of that 70's dark brown, pressed wood paneling. Ew. I went outside and that plane was back. It seemed like it was following me and getting lower and lower and lower. I froze and watched it come right for me. It was absolutley huge in the sky but by the time it crashed in front of me, it too was a little toy. I picked it up and heard it ticking.

Good morning! It's 7:00, time to rise and shine.

Dude, I just want to know if the toys were bombs. That's all I want to know!