Last night I had this dream. I was standing in a room that was completely empty except for an old man and a tiny piece of cardboard lying on the floor. . . . . . The old man just stood there looking at the piece of cardboard.
A couple hours later the old man picked up the tiny piece of cardboard.
Several hours after that the old man approached me and began to regale me with the story about where he had found the cardboard . . . turns out it was just sitting there. . . on the ground. . . near a bush or mailbox (he can't seem to remember which). . . by this medium-sized hill. . . with a tree on top that had been growing there for quite some time. . . in a town he'd evidentially been to before.
The story went on from there but I don't recall the rest. It was so boring I actually fell asleep in my dream as this old man blathered on about his piece of cardboard.
I was dreaming about sleeping – which is an awful lot like just plain sleeping without dreaming.
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