World's Best Sleeper.

Reaching up to take the cone from you, I fumble as I accidentally grasp your hand instead. Trying not to acknowledge my awkwardness, you smile. I know I'm dreaming because there's no way a girl like you would ever smile at me like that. Now I'm in my bedroom alone - my childhood bedroom - and I'm inspecting the shelf where my tiny collection of trophies is kept - some boxing trophies and one for Student of the Week. I'm reminded again that I'm dreaming because there's no way I'd ever get to be Student of the Week. I find a spot on the shelf, alongside this sad collection, that is empty. Like there should be something else there. I wake up at this point and, after some quick math, I figure out that I've slept a whole eight hours. Non-stop! And I'm thinking I deserve a trophy. A trophy to fill that gap on the dream-shelf.