Oh yeah, it’s real.

I had a dream last night that I ate some watermelon with Steve Buscemi. I can only remember him asking if I had salt to go with his slice.

Usually, when I have dreams, they last a long time to the point where they become stories with plots and characters. Not last night. If I could draw, I would illustrate it. All I remember was a room with a sepia tone and a man around 9 feet tall, but his body was disproportionate. His arms, head, and torso were of the right sizes, but it was his legs that made him tall – almost as if he had on stilts. He wore a pinstriped suit, with an oversized black top hat. In his right hand was a gold leash tethered to a wad of purple Play-Doh that had a diameter of roughly 10 inches. The man didn’t talk, but in the dream, I knew its name was Mr. Burger. I don’t believe it was sentient, but only because I didn’t see it move.