This was an actual dream that I had one night.
The sky was yellow, with sparkling beams in iridescent gold reflected on the pointed hat of an elf, two centuries old. The hostess of the hour was sweet in a robe of mismatched dyes. She entertained with merely this-- a kiss in her root beer eyes. The placemats were of baby fern, woven in intricate green, and laughter was heard like the tinkling of bells, near the banks of an ebony stream. I boarded a raft for an underground cave, which was carved in a spiral pattern. The subterranean symphony hall was draped in coral satin. At the end of the course was a water-slide in hues of ultraviolet, with children bouncing up and down. They prevailed upon me to try it. Though some might want to interpret this, myself, I'm in no hurry to analyze such a sweet retreat, which woke me without a worry.
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