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    “Now if only I had a jetpack, this wouldn’t be so bad.”

    This thought doesn’t discourage your attempt and you immediately begin gripping and sneakering your way up the face. Part of the way up, you notice how soft, familiarly soft, the texture is, so you taste some of it to give you more insight.

    “Mmmmm, it’s homemade peanut butter cookies!” This initial taste leads to more and more helping handfuls on your way up that the added weight starts pulling you back down. Climbing up this way is too tempting, you decide, so you move sideways over to part of the mountain that’s made out of Lego-bricks.

    “This is safer climbing-material anyway,” you think while rearranging the Legos to gain more height. At the very top on the plateau is the whole set-up from Close Encounters that they use when greeting the aliens. You wait for the musical-note discussion to end and for the aliens to come out of their craft. However, your cousin Iggy is the only one to appear out of that searing bright doorway.

    “This is preposterous,” you realize, “my cousin Iggy lives in West Virginia!”

    At this moment, you awake from your dream in Portage, Indiana. You piece together some of the dream elements from your surroundings – the peanut butter cookies still on the coffee table, your niece’s Legos on the floor, your copy of Mammary Moms laying on the couch, and a bargain-bin, public domain collection of 47 westerns on one DVD. The indicating glow for selecting a title on the DVD’s menu screen highlights one of the titles – The Lost Treasure of Dakota.

    The End.




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