Should I go to sleep? Or should I dream of misshapen orifices backing me into a corner and undulating until I cannot take it anymore and finally explode into a thousand tiny worlds, forevermore to be drifting through space as a malignant elf gazes down at my torn corpse eating some of the fragments and copulating with the rest?
I dunno man, sleep is good and all, but without it, you can tear through the hair folicles of a gorilla on steriods. And while you’re doing that, get me the butter, I got a bagel to sex up.
No, you shouldn’t dream, you should wake and realize you’re a butterfly dreaming you’re a man posting on messageboards about sleeping, and then you can go into a lenghty existential debate with yourself and have no time to sleep. Problem solved.