Every day, thousands of kids wish upon shooting stars, lucky fountains, rabbit’s feet, and birthday candles.

Each of these wishes is built on a foundation of hope, but slowly begins to fade away as they realize that dreams are fickle, and whoever manages these daily dreams probably doesn’t have the time to accommodate every eight-year old’s wish to play professional baseball or own a magical pony. With age, each birthday candle you blow out comes with a less expected, more hackneyed wish. Then after decades of repeatedly wishing for a tuxedo-wearing T-Rex best friend, you begin to lose enthusiasm, and hope. Sorry buddy, but the dream is dead; Rex isn’t coming.

Until one day, you see a billboard for a Nacho Cheese Doritos® Locos Taco Supreme. You remember that one time in ’98 when you were in Mrs. Evans’s third grade classroom, and they brought you a special birthday cupcake. Usually you would wish for a cool million to buy a fire truck, but today was special. Today, you decided to wish for a taco made out of Doritos® tortilla chips. It seemed silly at the time; even the dream police probably thought you were crazy. But little did you know, there was magic in the works, and a several year waiting period for wish granting. Now 12 years later, you look up to find that your simple wish came true; maybe there really is someone logging your wishes after all. They’re just apparently really really really overbooked or something.

Since 2014, more than a billion DLTs have been sold, making it one of the most iconic inventions in the history of tacos, or possibly food for that matter. Some might say that it’s all because of a simple wish that you and a couple million other hungry dreamers made once, proving that when the world dreams in unison, great things happen. So if we were you, we’d get two. One you can eat. The other, you can bronze and mount above your work desk as a living testament to the power of collective positivity. The only real negative is that all those wishes you had as a kid could probably still come true without warning. We don’t know about you, but we’re definitely in no state to play professional baseball anymore, and our landlords would be FURIOUS if we got a pet triceratops.

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