“Wow dad. This is, this is so touching. I can’t believe you are finally here, after all these years. What a shock! And you know what goes well with a surprise reunion dad? A side of KNUCKLE SANDWHICH!” you yell as you awkwardly lurch towards the phantom father. Despite your Scandinavian self-defense training, you have no experience actually throwing a good old fashioned North American knuckle sandwhich, even your 80’s Arnold Schwarzenegger film fetish can't help your lack of experience. The fact that your subconscious knows that your father is really just an element of your subconscious, and considering how much it hates you for wasting its possibilities on an Archeological Philosophical Engineering degree, it refuses to allow your dream self to achieve the satisfaction of clocking your absentee father. You fall through him and through the ground, spiraling down towards an enormous planet shaped object, millions of miles away, but you are roaring towards it with all the force that imaginary gravity can muster on your tiny frame. As you hurtle towards it nearing light speed, you see its form take shape, the giant maw of a planetary sized Earth Angel. Its mandibles quiver in excitement as its size erupts with proximity to a scale you can no longer perceive as a living insect poised to snap down on your body like a microscopic rotifer. Gulp. You aren’t dead, don’t worry about that, but your subconscious did just check out, and refuses to participate in your worthless life any longer. You are left catatonic, believing yourself to be cockroach poop. And your physical body responds by starting to smell the part.