I had a dream about you. The sky was green and the ground was blue. You spoke a song and I sang my thoughts. We ate lemonade and drank cookies. It all made perfect sense.

I had a dream about you. I licked your cone of ice cream. It was envelope flavored.

I had a dream about you. It happened during the day. You used a pencil to erase the ink I wrote over the chalkboard since the professor told me 7 + 4 didn't equal 10. You were really cool about it; in fact, you handed me a bucket of ice. Apparently I needed to chill out.

I had a dream about you. Your skin was sandpaper and your armpits were hollow, filled with dark chocolate and prunes. You offered me coffee and when I said no you handed me black coffee with a note that read "12 reasons not to drink coffee". I knew we would get along.