Polar Bears and Jesus

I've been having strange dreams. I think it's because there's been a lot to process and my subconscious is feeling deprived of that sweet, sweet nectar of oblivion I call PBR. For these and other various reasons though, I've been having particularly vivid dreams.

I dreampt, for instance, the other night of lying with a beautiful woman on the beach. She was wearing a bikini. We were having a lovely time. The beach, however, was made of clouds. They tasted of fog and cotton and sat roughly in one's throat but were otherwise beautiful. Above the clouds we could see a mountain top or two, somewhere in the east was a golden grecian temple, or something, my companion was suitably distracting such that I didn't much notice.

All of a sudden a polar bear began to approach us. I went over to my counterpart and put my arms around her as we stood looking at the polar bear and trying to come up with a plan. Then, behind us we saw Jesus and, as if by magic we remembered some wilderness survival techniques. We put our arms up over our heads and stood up tall to look as big as we could. We clapped our hands and yelled and, I'll tell you, it worked. We scared Jesus away.

The end.