I was having one of those dreams again. We all do. You have to go to the bathroom. The hall grows longer as you do the chocolate shuffle, cautious of dislodging anything. You sweat and panic until you finally push the door out of the way and let loose that tight balloon knot to make warmth in the waters.

You become conscious of the dream state, then aware that the feeling is still there deep down inside, kicking at your back door. Before you shit the linens, you wake up and take care of The Grand Duke of Cornhollus.

But for me, this time was different. I deposited the same exact turd from the dream into the toilet of real life.

A spiritual awakening happened; I had become a psychic for one moment. Some people see disasters in their dreams, but I saw poop. I have had premonitions in life, but this poop was an exact replica of the dream poop I had two minutes prior.

Two weeks ago, a poo-shy girl had told me about a similar experience she had. The dream, the awakening, the urge, and then finally the ethereal manifested.

There is something going on among us. And a special feeling arises when dreams come poo.