Lions and tigers and bears and dreams and stuff

I had a weird dream last night. In my dream, I was at the zoo and I was trying to take a picture of a lion. I distinctly remember my dream-self saying the words, "I will take a picture of this lion because he looks very lion-like right now." My dream-self is a flipping genius. Apparently the person who built the lion's cage was also a genius, because the only thing keeping the lion away from the general public was a thin, loosely strung little rope. So as I was trying to take a picture of this stunningly lion-like lion, it awoke from its slumber and proceeded to slip underneath the rope. At that point, there was nothing to separate me from this giant, hungry looking cat except for air. Which, believe it or not, is not the most effective means of defense. I turned around and walked away, hoping that the lion wouldn't notice. I guess I thought it was a very stupid lion. Maybe it was, because instead of just biting my head off or something, the lion just trudged along behind me, theoretically giving me plenty of time to escape. In fact, I came up with an escape plan, which was to jump up to the top of a thirty-foot tree by the side of the path in one giant bound. As I already pointed out, my dream-self is all sorts of brilliant. But, alas, before I could take a superhuman leap to the top of the very tall tree, the lion ate me and I woke up.

Of course, once I was awake, I sat in bed in the dark and had all of these sleepy delusions about how there were probably lions in the backyard and outside my bedroom door. And grizzly bears. Heck if I know where that one came from.

Then, without being eaten by lions that weren't there, I went back to sleep and dreamt something about giant pink pieces of styrofoam.