"Mmmm ice cream, you scream. Me want sundae." He walked behind the counter and grabbed himself a sundae glass and reached into the refrigerator scooping out a giant spoonful of chocolate chip ice cream. He plopped it forcefully into the dish and then covered the top of it with hot fudge. When he turned around he saw the back wall covered with a giant mirror. Leaning on the counter, he looked at himself and began spooning the ice cream feverishly into his mouth.

"Whas a happenin' hot stuff? I recognize you. Sorry I don't remember the name though. I don't even know why I'm wearing this suit to be honest. I did just remember something though. Someone once said 'you are what you eat' so I guess you're something I ate last night and it didn't sit well. I don't like this nightmare. I've never had a dream before that was so vivid, if it wasn't creepy it’d be kinda cool. I really want to wake up.” He set the ice cream dish down on the counter and lifted his hands up into the air screaming, “SERENITY NOW!”

****

Michael was drawing a picture in the dirt on the ground. The sky had turned dark and the town around him was pitch black. He was sitting on a park bench, while his finger traced a smiley face below him.

With a flash the lights surrounding the square turned on and the town lit up quickly. The theater, across the way, had flashing lights around the marquee with the movie title Death of a Salesman boldly lit in yellow. He stood and walked slowly to the front of the theater. He read the movie poster located by the front door and his mouth dropped open and eyes grew wide.

“I’m a salesman!” He screamed. He raced inside the theater lobby, pushing the door open hard. “I’m a salesman!”

Nothing.

He raced inside the closest theater. “Hey I’m a salesman!”

No one.

The large white screen stood before him in a completely quiet theater. He slumped down into one of the seats and looked at the empty room.

“I don’t even know what that means. I assume I sell something.”

Then the lights went down and the movie started up on the screen. Michael looked up and saw the projector had started. Trying to look inside the projector room above, he stood up and started shouting again.

“Hey! HEY!” He ran out of the theater and up the stairs outside the doorway. “Hey! Who’s up there?” He was taking the steps 2 by 2 and running as quickly as he could. His suit was now heavy and warm. His undershirt was soaked with sweat and the jacket was becoming a burden. When he got to the projectionist room he began banging on the door. “Who’s in here?” He pushed himself through and looked inside the room.

Nothing.

“Can’t anyone hear me?!” He yelled out through the hole in the wall. Turning back around, Michael quickly ran down the stairs to the lobby. The momentum from the stairs made him collide into the mirrored wall opposite of the stairs. Hitting his head against it, it shattered around him and he fell backwards onto the carpet.

He was breathing heavy when he sat back up. Sweat was dripping heavily down his temples. He stood up and stared at his reflection in the broken mirror, then turned away quickly.

He ran back out into the cool night air, never looking behind him. Tripping on the sidewalk, he stumbled forward almost losing his balance. He was stumbling over his shoes and running clumsily from something or someone he could not see.

Michael raced up to a stop light on the corner of the street and began pushing the walk signal button over and over again. He leaned his body against the pole and continued to push the button with his thumb.

“Help me, help me. Can somebody help me? Somebody is watching me. Help me! Help me! Can somebody help me? Please! Help me!”

He closed his eyes and continued to push the button over and over again.