A monday night's dream (dear readers)

So there I was, face to face with the assistant principal of our school, a woman who at one time was my kindergarden teacher. Thanks to my blatant omission of diplomacy, the conversation we were holding quickly heated up. As is the norm in reality, I proclaimed several rude, yet truthful, remarks; and in keeping with realism, I no longer recall exactly what I had said. Luckily for you, dear readers, this is where the realism ends. It just so happened that my assistant principal was the shogun of this particular dream realm. I realized her status all too late, for at that moment I noticed three imposing samurai standing nearby, radiating the unmistakable aura of rage. Their hairy, manly, contorted faces conveyed to me the emotion of "What the fuck did you just say?" I followed the shapes of their traditional armor down to their weapons, conveniently drawn. Oh, how I loathe that familiar sinking sensation. I bolted off, and of course, I was zealously chased down. Let me tell you, dear readers, never disrespect a shogun in front of samurai, I can attest to how fucked you will be, based off of personal experience. It wasn't long before the samurai had caught up with me. They swung their blades through my neck, and my head rolled off my body. Somehow, I had survived my beheading. I (now nothing more than a head) was picked up and presented to the shogun. Just then, I burst into a rabid, spiteful fit, spewing profanity, concurrently scaring off my killers. Apparently, an angry severed head shouting insults is surprising. I ferociously chomped onto the petrified woman's ear, and succeeded in ripping it off. After that, the dream started to fade away. I suppose I taught her a lesson in the end, and while I did claim a few small triumphs of my own, I was still left as nothing more than a detached head. Not too admirable.