Nothing like having a dream that makes you feel like you’ve woken up seven different freaking times, each iteration generating different friends in your room trying to explain this maddening dreaming effect to you—
simultaneously you’re wondering why the number of windows in your room has tripled and why there are plants growing out of your walls—
and then the last recursion of the dream is your mom making you chocolate chip pancakes when you wake up in a 200 year old farm house, and giving you a puppy to go running with in the backwoods of Maine—
and hey, you think, I really like this, I hope it’s real—
and then you actually wake up in your dorm and it’s 6:58AM and it’s Monday.
There are also no pancakes. Or puppies.