Granted. But you sleep in for 90 years, while your body lies there, preserved. You wake up almost a century later to find that everybody you ever cared for, everyone you loved, has died - in fact, everyone has died, except for you. The world succumbed to a nuclear holocaust a decade prior. You find that remarkably, your muscles haven't atrophied, but you're still shaky.
You stumble, slowly, to your feet, look out the window of the skeletal tower you find yourself in. The Earth is littered with ruin, a bleak wasteland riddled with radiation that would make a Geiger counter blush. You crumble to your knees, close your eyes, and collapse onto yourself, heaving chest-wracking sobs.
I wish I had a puppy.