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I really debated whether or not to write this dreamlog, as I am sure it has some dark and hidden meaning, likely having to do with some childhood trauma or some such thing. Here is what I can remember, in all its disturbing circus finery.

I was in prison for some crime I was sure I was guilty of. It was a dirty old turn of the century "you're going to die and the rats will eat you" prison. All stone and ironwork. Regardless of my guilt, I was free to roam the corridors and chat with my fellow inmates. Several are recognizable supervillains from comic books and movies. After stopping for a cup of tea, which tasted strangely sweet, I notice my hair is blue while passing a mirror. This upsets me greatly. I start a riot by strangling a guard, after he calls me "Blueboy". During the riot, the prison starts to melt, eventually becoming a faceless department store with extremely high ceilings.

Stock is being moved around the store by cloaked figures, dressed like Ringwraiths. They operate titanic pipework ladders on tiny wheels, and they glide up and down with the boxes as though they are floating. I am seemingly stuck in the area where they sell bicycles. The bikes hang by their front wheels in ordered rows all the way to the roof. They number in the thousands.

I mysteriously have a boxed cake in my possession at this point, which I must deliver to Patrick Stewart. I open the box to examine the cake and it begins to play a little movie. The decorations begin sliding about and a stirring soundtrack full of violins is blasting from all sides. The cake, which now seems more like an elaborate cookie, is in the three dimensional shape of the USS Enterprise, as it would look if crafted by a drunk three year old. In distinct neon green scriptive icing, the words "USS Congratulations" is spelled out, and the faces of C-list Canadian television personalities, printed on grainy sugar candies, pop up and complete what would be the saucer section of the ship.

I remember feeling infinitely embarrassed to be tasked with delivering the monstrosity, at which point a cobweb like Saran wrap tendril wrapped the cookie up and smeared all the icing.

I woke up extremely confused at this point.

My first thought was: "WTF was that?"

My second though was: "Is there a gas leak in here?"

After finding no poisonous hallucinogenic gases, my third and final thought was: "I hope I remember enough of this to node it tomorrow."

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