Last night some dude gave me a giant, man-sized crow puppet and taught me how to work it so that the world wouldn't explode. But then I didn't do it right so the only option left was to turn into Buffy the Vampire Slayer and let someone throw a knife at my back. I died, but it was okay, because I came out a happy ghost and had averted the apocalypse.
Lesson 1: Birds can't be trusted. Neither can professional puppeteers.
Lesson 2: While you were all unconscious, I saved the world, so you should probably make me an award. With glitter.
Alternate Lesson 2: I need to stop eating cheese fries before bed.
(True: Large dogs' dreams last longer, but small dogs dream more frequently.)
Kellan dreams of playing fetch with some nice new people.