In my dream last night, I threw a huge party. Amy Poehler was there, and so were Ray Bradbury and Caterina Murino.
Amy wasn’t funny at all, and I tried talking to Mr. Bradbury about storytelling but he ignored me.
Caterina waved at me to come talk to her, but before I could get over there, some fat guy cornered me and talked my ear off about the perfect temperature for serving beer. He looked like Göring and smelled like pulled pork and mayonnaise.
By the time I broke away from him, Caterina was leaving and everyone else was listening to my friend ____ tell one of his boring-ass stories.
The moral of the story is probably that I shouldn’t have a Leffe Triple and a handful of Cerignola olives right before I go to sleep.
I have the same problem! I had the smallest amount of chocolate before bed and over slept by two hours because I was dreaming some insane thing.