If it's true that if you can dream it you can do it than I can't do very much at all.

Last night I had your standard "Save a dozen of Brangelina's children from a haunted house" dream and suddenly all the running and saving made me starving and suddenly my fifth-grade gym teacher started tapping me on the shoulder.

"Hey. Hey." She was sort of yell whispering, and she shoved a Fred Meyer bag into my arms. I looked inside and saw it was filled with every variety of Pop Tarts.

"That is so kind of you." I told her. "But I think these have gluten, I can't eat them."

Gluten is I something in wheat, rye, and barley and even in my dreams I have Celiac Disease and can't eat it. I spend most time in REM asking strangers, friends, and celebrities about cross-contamination and reading packaging labels.

"Aren't you hungry though?" she took the bag back. She was actually whispering now.

"Don't worry about me, I actually swallowed a lot of blood earlier so my stomach's full." I told her.