I had a dream about you this morning. You and Brian and I were sitting at a picnic table in an evacuation camp. I was eating buttered toast cut into the shape of sea creatures (mostly squid) and zoning out while staring at a big mountain, and you two were having a whispered fight about the fact that Brian was surgically altering you in your sleep and not telling you about it.
Just thought you should know. Check yourself for scars.
Is it worrisome that this dream sounds about as I'd expect things to go between Brian and I in a post-Apocalyptic situation? Actually, that's how I picture Alison, too: still behaving all Martha Stewart with her toast even though the world's come to an end.