Last night I dreamed I was put on death row for something I didn't do. In the dream I wasn't terribly bothered by the fact that I was about to die, or that my last moments on Earth were going to be spent amidst the hell of prison life.
No, what I was worried about was that my dog would have no way of understanding why I went away, or where I'd gone. The thought was absolutely devastating.
Meanwhile, in the real world, my dog brought my dreams to an abrupt halt when he walked across the bed and stepped directly on my balls.
There's a point to this story, but I'm not sure what.