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Sorry, but I don't dream. Does this mean the aliens don't exist? (And if you're going to say that I do have dreams but that I just don't remember them, does this mean the aliens are all dead by the time I wake up?)
I envy anyone who has sticky dreams. Er, I mean, you know, dreams that stick. Stick around. I don't mean dreams that might be described as sticky. Although I'm not saying that they're not good too. At least, you know, if you're not one of those who's lucky enough to get lucky. In the regular way, I mean. Whatever that might mean for you, of course, which won't necessarily mean the same thing for someone else. Hell, I'm not discriminating here, of course I'm not. God, how did I get into this mess? Not that sort of mess. I mean a different sort of mess. More abstract. Not a sticky mess. I mean a mess without stickyness. And no, I'm not referring to tissues, either. Or a sock. How did I get onto that? No, not in that way. Just don't get me started. Geez you've got a dirty mind. Um, if you know what I mean...
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