I had just received my order at a nameless sit-down restaurant. The order was just as I wanted - whole penguin with French fries. The three penguins on my plate looked like flat penguin-shaped cookies and were simultaneously cartoonish and true-to-life in that quantum superpositional way only possible in dreams, like when you're in a room which looks like your old high school but which you also instantly recognize as your home living room. Biting into the penguins, something was immediately wrong. The skin changed from a glossy to a mealy, crushed-velvet texture and the meat inside was, well it turned out to be wrapped in a plastic bag which the chef had neglected to remove before re-skinning and cooking. As I grew pissed and confused over this, my experience with sleep paralysis began.