"It was aaaaaall a dream!" he said.
He sat there in his bed wearing his pajamas. Next to his wife.
"Honey! It was all a dream." he said.
His wife was still asleep, "I'm still sleeping dear." she said.
Paul had just had a real effective, long drawn out dream. The dream was very thorough like a fun television show series, or a wild trippy movie, with very specific and developed quirky characters. Paul couldn't believe so many elaborate and scripted-seeming twists and turns could go into one dream. The dream seemed to go on forever. Like seasons. He was sure he was living inside a beloved sitcom or something. But no, it was just a single night's sleep.
Paul went to work that morning.
"...And then he said a joke about a stick of butter!" said Marcie at work.
"Ha ha ha ha! So funny." said Byron.
"What are you talking about?" said Paul.
"We're talking about a funny joke on my favorite sitcom." said Marcie.
"Oh! Well I just had a dream, and I was certain was real. It was like a sitcom, or show, or movie! Can you believe that?"
"Neat." said Byron.
Byron and Marcie were bored by Paul's dream story.
Paul tried telling five more people that day about his dream. They'd get bored too, because most of the time when someone tries to tell you about their dream you get bored and can't follow, unless you're a therapist.
As hard as he tried he could not get someone to give a shit about his dream that turned out to be all a dream. Paul eventually forgot the dream. Because dreams are hard to remember.
Thirty years went by. Paul would go on to develop a heroin addiction, abuse his wife, isolate his son, and accidentally set fire to a government building.
Paul woke up and he was a beloved beer drinking character with a potbelly on a delightful little sitcom.
"What!? It was aaaaall a dream!!"