The caffeine withdrawal was the worst it's been last night. I repeatedly fell of the wagon last week, most notably when I purchased a Starbucks Frappucino on Friday afternoon for myself (and a tall extra-room Americano for Leo (he likes a lot of room for cream (hey - it's none of my business))). The result is that Saturday was my first full caffeine-free day. It went reasonably well, all things considered.

Then, there was yesterday... Something funny must have been happening in my noggin as a result of caffeine depletion. I had a thumping headache, a footache (yeah: a footache), my body felt fuzzy, and I was unacceptable grumpy.

While the entire day was pretty much a waste (except for the hour during which I sold my 2001 Ford Focus), I managed to get one little bit of greatness out of the whole bad experience, and that greatness is the dream that is being reported in here.

It isn't long. It's just weird.

I was in space somewhere. Wherever it was that I was in space, there was a planet. I was on the planet.

I don't know the planet's name.

I was in a restaurant.

I don't know the restaurant's name.

It doesn't matter - Neither thing matters.

The restaurant had a high ceiling. It was, perhaps, 80 feet tall. It was as long as a football field (American or otherwise).

That doesn't really matter, either.

The cool part is that, hanging from the ceiling, were hundreds, nay, thousands of giant blind bat-eating space-chameleons.

Yeah. That's right, buddy: Space-chameleons.

They were hanging from some kind of weird rubbery space-chameleon goop that was a bit like bungee cord, except that the stuff was produced inside of the space-chameleons, and came out of their bottoms. That makes them kind of like spiders. But, they weren't spiders.

They were space-chameleons.

Each one was the size of a tiger, and they were bobbing up and down from the ceiling, supported by their space-chameleon butt-goop bungee cords.

Not only that, but the big, bulbous eyes that one would usually expect to find on chameleons... Well, they were there, but they were permanently shut, effectively rendering this particular batch of space-chameleons blind.

This only makes their bat-hunting all the more impressive.

That's correct - You heard me right: bat-hunting space-chameleons.

There were bats flying around near the top of the ceilings, and giant space-chameleon tongues were flashing out of space-chameleon mouths with the intent of latching on to passing bats for the purpose of turning them into space-chameleon snackety-wacketies.

And that's all she wrote. There's no plot or anything - Just space-chameleons.

Ah, yes. Quitting caffeine. Except for the headaches, mood-swings, psychotic episodes, schizophrenic dreams, and a general sort of dysphoria, I've never felt better (except maybe when I had meningitis - that was actually a little better than caffeine withdrawal (seriously)).