I dreamed the world was made of cheese

I use to dream that the world was made of cheese. “Cheese sidewalks, cheese swing sets, and even people all made out of different kinds of cheese.” It might have had something to do with my one dimensional view of the world…limited by flat pink glasses, a shocking lack of depth perception, and my overbearing mother…, but a more probable theory is that it was a flash from one of my many alternate realities…worlds where it was perfectly acceptable to be made of cheese and gnaw the sidewalk.
I often wonder what the casual stranger, unfortunate witness of my eloping imagination, would have seen. Open mouth, chalky white complexion, eyes. Tired eyes…old eyes, certainly too old for a child…nearly swallowed up by ever-present dirty drooping pink metal frames bound by strapping tape. A vacant expression was my gift to the world.
“…And the cars were made of cheese too. Of course, the windows were swiss. You could see all the cheese cows grazing outside…”
Something is droning in my ear like an intoxicated mosquito. My worlds collide.
“Did you hear me?”
…Silence…
“Answer my question!!”
...Silence…
“What’d you say?”
The interrogator expels a large huff of exasperation.
“I said, name the four conditions for a mortal sin.”
“The four conditions for a mortal sin are…nummmber one…um..the four what?”
“CONDITIONS!”
“Ah yes, the four conditions for a…wait…did you say a mortal sin?”
An explosion is imminent.
I sense the building rage and retreat to the safety of my blank stare, tensing my jaw and butt to weather out the lecture. My self slips into cheeseland.