A few nights ago, I had a dream that was, well, amazing to experience.

So down by the street corner there was an old man, a table, and three cups of water on that table. The man looked worn out, and had a long beard that he apparently hadn't trimmed in a while, but he didn't appear homeless. But, the interesting thing about him was his purpose for setting up the three cups: to passerby, he would constantly announce that all three of the cups of water were poisoned.

As I approached him, he suddenly suffered a heart attack, stroke, or some other thing of that sort. He died before the ambulance could arrive.

But I was touched by his three cups. I took them for myself, and set upon a journey around the entire world to tell people about the three poisoned cups. It was an amazing and inspiring journey for me. And I never did figure out if the cups were actually poisoned.

Or maybe I'm just crazy. xP