You Shouldn't Fuck with Redpanda's Dreams

Sean happened to mention to me last night that Melatonin is known to cause very vivid, disturbing dreams. In fact, apparently someone we all know and love, whose name shall not be mentioned, once reported having a dream in which rats were eating him. That was his first and last melatonin experience.

I bring this up because it relates to an experience I had the other night, one in which something wonderful was completely and utterly RUINED for me, probably due to the influence of melatonin. Fucking melatonin.

We had both taken one before retiring, which is probably not all that unusual. If one of us takes one and the other doesn't, than the person who has opted to go substance-free is usually subjected to the deep, throaty snozzling snores of the melatonin-taker. Since this is kind of an unpleasant experience, we usually opt to avoid it entirely by arranging, via the magic of melatonin, to be knocked unconscious simultaneously. Plus, you know, we're so all in love and stuff that we couldn't bear it if one of us experienced something the other didn't. This is why when I stub my toe, I immediately hit Sean's with a hammer.

Well, I was having a wonderous, perhaps melatonin-induced dream. There was a hamburger. It was the biggest, juiciest, meatiest, most delicious hamburger ever to be beheld and it was mine. I smiled down at it, and began my standard Hamburger Eating Preparations. I picked up the big, fluffy, kaiser bun and spread it with mayo. (Hey, this was a dream! I bet it wasn't even LOWFAT!) I lifted up the brilliant green lettuce leaves and the crisp crimson tomato, and liberally applied barbeque sauce to the covering of bright orange melted cheddar cheese, which covered all but a glimpse of the salty bacon and sauteed mushrooms I could see peeking out below it. Mmmm. The burger was just how I like it, giant and goopy. I took my knife and cut it in half, as I typically do with giant restaurant-issue sandwiches. Smiling in my sleep, I took the burger half closest to myself and lifted it, feeling its mighty hamburger heft, towards my mouth.

The burger then began screaming at me. Screaming. Screaming hamburger. SHUT UP AND LET ME EAT YOU, STUPID SCREAMING HAMBURGER!

The screaming woke me up, and I rolled over, confused, to see Sean screaming in his sleep. Poor baby. (I'm sure it was a very manly scream, sounding of motor oil, football, and shameless tit shots.) I shook him gently, saying "Honey. Honey. Wake up. You were screaming. Honey? Are you Ok? You fucking bastard. You took my calorie-free, cholesterol-free hamburger from me. I fucking hate you right now. Don't scream, honey. Wake up. It's Ok. Except for the fucking hamburger. Wake up, sweetie. I have to get back to sleep. And get my hamburger."

He finally gaped at me, confused. "Wha?" I rolled him over and he went back to sleep.

I never did get to eat my hamburger. My fucking delicious melatonin-induced hamburger. How I long for you, hamburger.