A River of Sweetness and Why

I was standing on a hill made of marshmallow fluff, and below me—oh, below me!—a waterfall of chocolate poured from a sky that looked like melted caramel. It didn't just fall; it sang, a gurgling, syrupy hum that made my toes tingle inside my jellybean shoes. “Why is it so warm?” I asked the air, and the air answered by blowing a chocolate-scented breeze that stuck to my eyelashes like tiny brown stars. I waded in up to my knees. The chocolate was thick and glossy, and it pulled at my legs as if it wanted to dance. I laughed. I couldn't help it. A fish made of white chocolate swam past, winking at me with a raisin eye. “Where are you going?” I called after it. It didn't reply, but it left a trail of sprinkles that glittered like confetti. I followed. The waterfall rumbled behind me, and I turned to see it had grown a face—a kind, squishy face with a licorice smile. “Don't be afraid,” it seemed to say, but I wasn't afraid. I was curious. I reached out to touch its cheek, and it melted into my palm, leaving a warm, sticky kiss. Then I heard a whisper: “Why are you here?” I looked up. The caramel sky was cracking, and behind it was... a giant cocoa bean, smiling down at me. I opened my mouth to answer, but all that came out was a single word: “Why?” And the dream laughed, a deep, chocolatey laugh that shook the marshmallow hill.