Last night, I had a dream that I was back in Vermont, living in the house that I grew up in, standing in my backyard on a sunny day. All of a sudden, I was approached by a huge, cartoonish and fat penguin with a rainbow-like stripe of feathers running down his back. Instantly I understood, here was my penguin buddy.

Like a doting parent or the proud owner of a cute-ass kitten, I proceeded to waddle with the penguin as he zoomed back and forth, snooping, playing and doing all sorts of adorable and delightful things. At one point he turned to me and said in his gruff little penguin voice, “Hungry!” My little buddy needed food.

I took him inside to the kitchen. My flightless friend hoisted himself into a chair at the table and looked at me with hopeful enthusiasm. I rummaged through the cupboards trying to figure out what penguins like to eat for lunch. Tuna fish sandwiches, of course, I thought. I quickly whipped up a pair and sat down with him. He looked at the food, stuck his beak in and chugged back a few bites. “Good”, he said. I was exceedingly pleased with myself.

Later, back in the yard watching the little dude prance and play from the comfort of a lawn chair, I noticed he started furrowing in the ground and gathering twigs. What could he be doing, I thought? It was then that I noticed it was suddenly winter, with snow all over the ground. Aww, I thought, the little guy’s cold, he’s building a nest.

So, I took him inside the house and we took a nice warm nap. I lay there in bed, very content to be snuggling with my big, fat penguin buddy. I squeezed him in a big bear hug and he said, “Squish!” The world was perfect.

At this point, I woke up, exhausted, slightly hung-over and late for work. What could possibly cause me to have such a fucked up bizarre and totally gay dream, I have no idea. I swear to God, I do not normally dream like that. Still, it was an awesome time. I was so happy to be with my penguin buddy. I gotta stop drinking.