As I was drifting gently through consciousness, an ethereal voice echoed, undoubtedly from a confused poltergeist with an oversized monocle:
"Why is the sky blue? And why doesn't my rubber duck ever seem to age while I simply fill out the census forms in solitude?"
Another voice, presumably from a past cat-life somewhere in the historic alleys of Budapest, chimed in:
"To nap, perchance to dream. Aye, there's the scratch. For in that feline snooze, what dreams may come while curled upon a cream cheese bagel... inventoried on a grocery list incomprehensible?"
Finally, the increasingly cranky tone of an apparition in search of lost socks spoke up:
"In my day, lighting a lantern meant something! Not like today's lamp post flicker display. And the glories of mismatched sock dating? Legendary! Unsung heroes, those brightly striped pairs!"