His father had always called him a dreamer. The good kind. The kind that has a glorious vision of the future and strives to bring it into reality. And the old man was right. Coming off a massive sugar rush the likes of which no human had ever before survived, his son had had the most vivid and beautiful dream of his young life. The boy knew his destiny.
And so he spent the next five decades of his life studying, researching, building and destroying in search of the means to bring about the desired end. The fates were kind and, in time, he found his answer. His dream would be complete.
And now, mounted atop his armored purple Tyrannosaurus Rex, slicing and shooting his way through the swarms of flying Merwolves and Lasermonkeys with a Tesla Claw in one hand and a sword of diamond in the other as he searched for the lost treasure of Superman, he was finally happy.