I’ve plunged my hand into the creamy vanilla abyss. I put my hand in deeper. I feel something as I’m a full arm length in the tub. It was my fathers decapitated head. I went to call the police, but they were already at my door before I called. I wipe off my cream covered arm, but it was too late. The FBI burst through the window and held me and my 17 pet porcupines at gunpoint. I then woke up from my dream, but in a psychiatric ward. It wasn’t a dream.